


As You Walk On By

by MercyBraavos



Series: Don't You, Forget About Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive Mary Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesiac Castiel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean, Caring John Winchester, Demisexual Castiel, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Firefighter Dean, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Slash, Teacher Castiel, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBraavos/pseuds/MercyBraavos
Summary: Dean and Castiel grew up together. Fell in love together. Lost their virginity together. Made plans for the future, their future, together. There’s only one problem: Castiel doesn’t remember any of it.





	1. Will You Call My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Spirit of Lawrence High](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594180) by [violue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue). 



> OK, hi. This plot bunny bit the everloving fuck out of me and wouldn't shut up until I started writing. I've avoided some Destiel tropes (such as Homophobic John) not because I don't like them - in fact my favorite AU series (Cupcakes & Chlamydia by the deliciously smutty Violue) uses that one to great affect - but because they didn't work in this fic. I've also reversed certain canon aspects (such as Mary's death) onto Castiel because reasons.
> 
> This work is unbeta'd because I love my beta and simply couldn't bear to put anything else on her shoulders right now. Constructive criticism and mistake catches are welcome. 
> 
> This work was partly inspired by Violue's "The Spirit of Lawrence High" and partly by my own battle with hopelessness wherein I use my work to compensate for the fact that nothing in life ever seems to work the way we need it to. So while this fic will be angsty and messy it will also have a happy ending.

\--

_ Ten Years Old _

The first time Dean saw Castiel he asked him, “Are you an angel?”

And the smaller boy laughed, reached his hand down and pulled Dean up off the ground.

It wasn’t Dean’s fault that those were the first words he said. Alastair was being a jerk like always because he was a damn bully and tall for his age, which was older anyway because he was repeating the fifth grade. He pushed Dean because he _could_ and this time Dean had lost his balance and tripped over a root from the huge Sycamore that shaded the corner of the playground.

Dean was never entirely sure what happened after that; only that one moment Alastair was looming over him and the next he was yelping in pain and holding himself _down there_ and running back toward the school while yelling about telling Miss Harvelle.

Dean looked up, shielding his eyes from the early October sun and saw him. If ‘beautiful’ was a word his ten-year-old brain was capable of applying to another boy it’s what he would have used, but with the boy’s messy hair framed by sunlight, ‘halo’ was the only thing Dean could think of.

“I am named after one though,” the boy said. “The angel of Thursday.”

“Today’s Thursday,” Dean said stupidly, but the not-angel grinned at him and agreed that yes, it _was_ Thursday.

The boy stuck his hand out again. “I’m Castiel.”

Dean looked at the hand and then smacked it with his palm in a sort of sideways high five. “Dean.” Looking down, he grimaced at the dirt and grass stains on the knees of his jeans. Man, his mom was gonna kill him. He looked back up the boy; at Castiel. “You new, Cas?”

Castiel nodded fervently. “We moved here last week, my brothers and I.” He glanced back at the school. “It’s my first day.” His expression darkened a bit. “Feels like I’m not starting out very well.”

“Alastair’s a dick, but don’t worry about Miss Harvelle, she’s cool, you won’t get in trouble if I tell her you helped me.”

Cas looked relieved. “I’ve got Miss Mosley.”

“Did she make you stand up in front of the class and tell them all about yourself?” Dean asked, grinning.

“Oh, god yes,” Cas groaned. “I didn’t even know what to say. ‘Hi, I’m Castiel. My parents died. I like bees’.”

Dean blinked at him. Castiel had said he was here with his brothers, but Dean hadn’t thought to question _why_. He thought of his mom; at home with her pies and warm smiles. He thought of his dad ruffling his hair while they worked on the Impala together. He imagined them dead, imagined them gone, imagined him and Sammy alone in the world. It made his skin feel cold and his stomach hurt.

“H-how did they die?” He asked on a shaky exhale before backtracking immediately. “I mean, if you wanna talk about it. Christ, I’m sorry.”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s OK.” He dropped down onto a patch of grass in the shade and looked up until Dean sat down next to him. “There was a fire. Gabriel and I made it out. My mom and dad didn’t.”

Hesitant, Dean reached out and squeezed Cas’ fingers gently. Castiel gave him a small, but grateful smile. “How’d you end up here?” Dean asked.

“My oldest brother, Michael, he teaches college. He got offered a tenured position at KU starting next semester but he didn’t want to wait and pull Gabriel and me out of school in the middle of the year, so… here we are.” He glanced over at Dean. “Gabriel’s a senior. He was, uh, less than thrilled about moving. Went on and on about leaving his girlfriend behind.” Cas rolled his eyes dramatically and Dean laughed.

“What does ‘tenured’ mean?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. “Something better than ‘adjunct’ I guess. That’s what he was in Richmond.”

“Oh.” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What does ‘adjunct’ mean?”

Cas chuckled and then said something that made Dean topple over into the soft grass, laughing harder than he had in a very long time.

“Fuck if I know, Dean.”

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

“What do you mean ‘he doesn’t remember’?” Dean asked frantically. “He has like, what? Amnesia? Like for-real amnesia? What is this a soap opera?” He scrubbed a hand across his face and shifted uncomfortably in his hospital bed. The skin above his left ankle itched and he reached down reflexively to scratch it, scraping his fingernails over the rough plaster of his cast. It was official, having a broken leg sucked ass.

He looked up at his parents. John was staring blankly out of the window while Mary worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “So… does he remember anything or is he just a total blank?”

John and Mary exchanged a look.

“He – he remembers a lot, baby,” Mary began. “He remembers himself and all of us and you, but…” She looked to John for help.

“Dad?”

John dragged his gaze away from the window and looked sadly at his older son. Dropping into the chair next to the bed, he took Dean’s hand gently in his own. “He knows who you are, Dean… he just doesn’t know who you _are._ ”

Dean stared at him. “I don’t-“ he snapped his mouth shut and looked up at Mary in time to see a single tear track down her cheek. Understanding hit him like a punch to the gut and he dropped his head back onto his pillows, breathless. “He doesn’t remember us,” he whispered. “He doesn’t remember _us_.”

\--

Apparently it was called ‘selective amnesia’ and it was a _thing_. Cas remembered every single detail about everything that he’d ever remembered… except that he and Dean and been best friends since they were ten, boyfriends since they were sixteen, lovers for a year… that they belonged to each other. In Castiel’s new world, Dean was just a classmate, the big brother of the kid Cas tutored in Biology.

Fucking fantastic.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean, who had been spaced out in his depressive funk, jerked at the familiar greeting and whipped his head toward the voice only to be sorely disappointed.

“Oh. Michael. Um, hi.” Castiel’s brother stood in the doorway looking equal parts sympathetic and uncomfortable. He glanced around the room, empty except for Dean.

“I made them go home,” Dean explained. “Sammy needs them more than I do right now. It’s almost the end of the year and he’s in all those advanced classes with all those tests.” He turned to look outside again. The sun was setting, turning the outside world sepia toned.

It looked artificial.

It _felt_ artificial.

Michael was talking again. “May I come in?”

Dean shrugged, “sure.”

“I spoke with John and Mary and I understand they’ve told you about Castiel’s… condition.”

“Condition,” Dean scoffed quietly.

Michael ignored him. “We’ve consulted a neurologist, of course, and she recommends that we let things run their course for the time being.” When Dean didn’t respond he continued. “As far as we can tell, Castiel doesn’t know that anything is wrong and we don’t want to risk stressing his mind and slowing his recovery.”

Dean turned to Michael slowly, shock and fury etched on his face. “No one _told_ him?” he shouted. “He’s missing a huge part of his life and no one _TOLD HIM_?”

“He remembers enough!” Michael snapped. “He can walk and talk and feed himself. He can read and write and list every bone in the human body. He remembers what _matters_!”

Dean blinked at him, recoiling as though he’d been slapped and Michael clapped a hand over his mouth in shame.

“Christ, Dean,” he said quickly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. Of _course_ you’re important and what you and Castiel had – have is important, it just…”

“Isn’t as important as everything else,” Dean finished sadly. Maybe Michael wasn’t wrong. Dean was holding Cas back, he knew that. The fact that Cas _wanted_ Dean holding him back seemed to matter less now that Cas didn’t remember it.

Michael looked at him helplessly. “I’m flying blind here, kid. I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.”

Dean closed his eyes, sighing. Michael hadn’t called him ‘kid’ since Dean and Cas were twelve; prepubescent and awkward, still having innocent sleepovers on Cas’ living room floor. That, more than anything else, brought him back. This wasn’t about him. It was about Cas: what was best for him, what would make him happy; and not just happy now, but happy in the long run.

He thought back to the argument they’d been having when Dean has lost control of the Impala; how _insistent_ Cas had been that he’d made up his mind; how infuriated Dean had been at his inability to sway Cas to another choice. Maybe… maybe it would be better this way. There was only one more thing Dean needed to know.

“Does he remember the accident?” He opened his eyes and glanced at Michael’s pained expression.

“In a way.”

Dean sighed. “What does that mean, Michael?”

Michael licked his lips nervously. “He remembers being in your car. He remembers seeing headlights coming toward you, he remembers your arm across his chest when you jerked the wheel and slammed on the breaks.” He shook his head. “Nothing else.”

“He didn’t wonder why he was with me?”

“He- he said you must have been driving him home after a tutoring session with Sam. That’s actually how we knew something was wrong. He didn’t call you Dean. He called you Sam’s brother.”

“Sam’s brother,” Dean repeated, his voice barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper. He thought about Cas. His goofy smile and the way he’d tilt his head and listen to whatever dumb story Dean was telling him. He thought about Cas’ voice when he told Dean he loved him. Cas’ stupid pajamas with the bumblebee print that Dean secretly loved. He thought about the way Cas had hidden his acceptance package from Berkeley and the look in his eyes when Dean had found it.

He thought about the last words Cas had said to him: _Dean, I don’t care where I go as long as I’m with you!”_

He thought about his response: _Cas, that’s officially the dumbest thing you’ve ever said._

“It was my fault.”

“The other driver was drunk off his ass!” Michael shouted, indignant.

Dean shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We were fighting and I was distracted. If – if I’d been paying attention I could have-“

“This isn’t on you, Dean. It’s not.” Michael grabbed his hand. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll come back. We’ll tell him-“

“Don’t tell him anything,” Dean said flatly, yanking his hand out of Michael’s grip.

Michael blinked at him. “Dean-“

“It’s better this way.” His broken leg prevented him from rolling over and putting his back to Michael, so he shifted his torso away and fixed his gaze toward the window. After a long while he heard Michael move toward the door and close it behind him.

Alone in his hospital room with only guilt and emptiness to keep him company, Dean – for the first time in years – let himself cry.

\--

_ Ten Years Old _

The day after Dean met Castiel he found himself on his ass on the playground again. This time though it was on a layer of fallen leaves with a red-headed girl sitting on his stomach and gloating victoriously.

Under her, Dean sighed. “Fine, you win. What’s my punishment?”

“First of all, I am your queen and you will address me as ‘your majesty’.”

“Yes, _your majesty_ ,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Now can you get the hell off me? Oh, hey Cas!”

Castiel sidled up next to them and looked down like he wasn’t sure if he should be there or not.

“Cas, Charlie. Charlie this is Cas.”

“Um, hi.” Cas kept his eyes averted and his smile looked forced.

_OK, weird._

Still sitting on him, Charlie brightened. “Ooooh, you’re Cas?!” She pushed off of Dean and leapt to her feet, ignoring Dean’s pained ‘ _ow!_ ’ She threw her arms around Castiel and hugged him despite the unchecked shock on his face. Tentatively, he hugged her back before she leaned around him and giggled. “I gotta go pull Jo’s pigtails. Later, bitches!” She blew them each a kiss before scampering off toward the small basketball court where a blonde girl was jumping rope.

“Well,” Castiel said, dropping down next to Dean, “that was interesting.”

“Yeah, that’s Charlie,” Dean chuckled. Cas still had a strange expression on his face though. “Are you OK?”

Cas blinked at him. “Yes, I just-“ he glanced over and Charlie and then back at Dean before looking down at the ground, two spots of color rising high on his cheeks. “I’m not very good at making friends. People have always found me a little odd and… now I’m just the kid with no parents.” He looked down, fiddling with a shoelace. “They avoid me,” he whispered.

“Charlie didn’t avoid you.” Dean propped himself up on his elbows and nudged Castiel’s side with his shoulder.

Cas glanced across the playground where Charlie was indeed tugging on Jo’s pigtails. Judging by the blonde girl’s giggling it didn’t hurt. “She’s… interesting,” he said finally.

“That’s one word for it.” Dean grinned up at him. “So, there’s two friends made.”

Castiel looked back from where he’d been thoughtfully regarding Charlie. “Two? Who’s the other one?”

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved Castiel back onto the leaf pile before dropping his own weight off his elbows. He stuck one hand behind his head and grabbed Castiel’s hand with the other.

“Oh,” Cas said quietly and laced his fingers through Dean’s. “OK.”

Dean smiled at him and for a while, they watched the clouds together.

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

Dean remember the clouds. Dean remembered the feel of Cas’ hand in his. He remembered feeling warm, despite the autumn chill. He remembered feeling safe, even though Alastair had probably been lurking somewhere. He remembered finding out Cas lived two doors down. He remembered walking home from school, doing homework at each others’ houses, sitting together at Dean’s kitchen table and eating the snacks Mary made for them. He remembered looking at Cas one afternoon and thinking: _this is my best friend!_

Moving awkwardly on his crutches, Dean made his way to Castiel’s hospital room. Dean would be released later that day, but Cas would remain under observation for another week. When he reached the door he took a deep breath before knocking softly. Part of him hoped Cas was sleeping so he could hobble back to his room and-

“Yes?”

_Fuck._

He opened the door and limped inside.

Cas was sitting up, propped on a mountain of pillows with a legal pad on the rolling table in front of him. He was writing something and whatever it was wasn’t his first draft. There were at least six crumpled balls of paper scattered on his bed. He looked up.

“Hello, Dean,” he said and smiled.

               _“I love you, Dean”_

It was a polite smile.

               “ _I’ve loved you since we were ten.”_

From one acquaintance to another.

               _“I’ve loved you forever.”_

Because Castiel didn’t remember any of it.

\--


	2. Think of the Tender Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a minor edit to Chapter 1 that changes the timeline of Dean's impending release from the hospital as the original wording would've caused a continuity error in this chapter.

_ Sixteen Years Old _

The first time Dean kissed Castiel could’ve almost been called an accident. It certainly wasn’t planned; it wasn’t even something Dean was actively thinking about. I just _happened._ It simply _was._

One minute they were sitting on Dean’s deck, toes dipping into the cool water of the Winchester’s above ground pool while watching fireflies blink in and out of existence, ephemeral in the mid-July dusk. The next minute Dean was kissing him, soft and slow and sweet and when he pulled back Cas was smiling at him.

“Hi,” he said, blushing.

“Hello, Dean.”

The second time, Castiel kissed _him._

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

But Castiel didn't remember that kiss. He simply looked at Dean expectantly, politely awaiting a reply to his 'hello, Dean.'

“Hey, Cas,” Dean responded, trying to fake the best smile he could. Castiel was wearing a green and white hospital gown. His hair was a wreck. There were dark circles under his eyes, bruises on his face and a row of black stitches holding together the jagged gash over his left eye.

He looked beautiful and it was taking every ounce of willpower Dean had not to wrap Cas in his arms and never, ever let go.

Castiel was peering at him curiously, looking Dean up and down in a way that made Dean’s breath catch in his throat. “I guess they’re letting you go today?”

Dean blinked and realized Cas had merely been inspecting his standard street-clothes look of jeans and an open plaid button-down thrown over a t-shirt. “Yeah,” he said roughly and then cleared his throat, “this afternoon probably.”

“How’d you get those jeans on over the cast?” Cas asked, looking at the plaster covering Dean’s unshod foot.

Dean glanced down at his leg and the denim that was, admittedly, stretched a bit tightly over his broken leg. “Uh, carefully?”

Castiel had turned his attention back to whatever he was writing, but Dean saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smile. It hurt though; the detachment and distance of that smile.

“What are you working on?”

Cas answered him without looking up. “Writing to Berkeley. Michael said I should explain what happened and ask if they’d consider holding my place for the Spring.” Sighing, he scratched something out and started a new sentence. “I should be OK to take the make-up exams over the summer so I can graduate.”

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Oh. I’ll uh, leave you to it then.” Cas made a distracted sound of agreement and Dean adjusted his crutches and moved back toward the door. Cas was treating him like a virtual stranger and Dean _could not breathe._

“Oh, Dean, wait!”

Dean turned around, eyebrows raised, an infuriating kernel of hope burning in his chest.

Cas was digging through the top drawer of the small hospital dresser next to his bed. He came up with a clear plastic bag that Dean recognized as Cas’ personal effects. Pulling the drawstrings apart, Cas reached into the bag and withdrew an achingly familiar silver chain from which a white gold class ring hung.

“They put this with my things by mistake,” Cas said. “I’m assuming it’s yours… unless I suddenly took up baseball.” He peered at the engravings on the side of the ring as if confirming the sport and then held the chain out toward Dean, grinning.

Limping forward, Dean accepted the ring silently. His fingers brushed Castiel’s and Cas blinked up at him. “Why – why do you have it on a chain?” he asked slowly.

 _Because it was too big for your finger._ “Didn’t want to get it caught on something while I worked on the car,” Dean lied. He stuffed the ring into his pocket. Looking at it was making him feel sick.

“Oh.”

Dean turned to leave again when Castiel’s voice stopped him _again_. “I can’t find mine. Did they give it to you?”

Standing in the doorway with his back to the lover who didn’t remember him, Dean pressed a hand to his chest where, under his shirt on an identical chain, Castiel’s ring was nestled against his heart. He bit his lip and blinked back the tears that blurred his vision.

“Sorry, Cas,” he said. “Can’t help you there.” He closed the door before Cas could respond and hobbled back to his room.

\--

_ Twenty-Four Years Old _

Dean poked his head out from the locker room, tapping the floor with the toe of his shoe until he got Benny’s attention. “Are they gone?”

Rolling his eyes, Benny nodded. “Bus just pulled away.”

Relieved, Dean headed back toward the common room and dropped down onto the couch. The firehouse was blissfully quiet now without the excited voices of twenty-two third graders all shouting ‘Mr. Novak’ this and ‘Mr. Novak’ that.

Benny sat down beside him. “One of these days,” he began, “you’re going to tell me why you hate that guy so much.”

Dean took a deep breath, pushing away his irritation at the idea that he could ever hate Cas. “I don’t hate him.”

“Three times a year, every year he brings a class here and every time – every _single_ time – you hide.”

Benny had transferred to Dean’s company four years earlier and Dean counted the brash southerner among his closest friends, but he’d never told him about Castiel; about the accident. Looking at him now, Dean felt guilty. He’d been the best man at Benny and Andrea’s wedding. He was Lizzie’s godfather for Christ’s sake. He owed Benny the truth… right?

“We knew each other a long time ago,” Dean said quietly. “We were… close.”

Benny made an ‘ahh’ sound. “High school sweethearts?”

He looked up sharply, instantly on the defensive, but there was no malice in Benny’s eyes; no judgement or disgust or anything other than genuine concern laced with curiosity. Dean wasn’t in the closet, per se, but his bisexuality wasn’t common knowledge. He didn’t date, so it rarely came up.

“It’s a long story,” Dean said truthfully.

Benny raised his eyebrows. “We’re on shift until tomorrow night, brother.” He waved in the direction of the red klaxon installed over the common room door. “So unless that thing starts blaring we’ve got plenty of time.”

For a brief moment, Dean almost wished something in their district would spontaneously combust. He took a breath, choking slightly when it caught in his throat and Benny laid a calming hand on his arm.

Sighing, Dean started at the beginning. “When I was ten years old…”

\--

Sometime later, and only half-way through the story, Dean ran out of steam and leaned his head on the back of the couch. Wordlessly, Benny disappeared into the kitchen, returning several minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee laced with copious amounts of cream and sugar. Dean took it, giving his friend what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“You OK?”

Dean shrugged absently. “I’ve never told anyone this before. I mean, people know, but they don’t talk about it and I’ve never had to outright tell the story.”

“We can stop, brother.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s cathartic.” And it was. Despite the heaviness of the tale, Dean felt emotionally lighter than he has in years.

Benny nodded his understanding. “All right then. What happened after you got out of the hospital?”

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

Dean spiraled. For months on end he spiraled down, down, down until the idea of the proverbial rock bottom seemed like some sort of cruel, clichéd joke. How was he supposed to hit rock bottom and claw his way back up if all he did was fall deeper and deeper?

He didn’t bother to make-up his final exams and KU rescinded their offer.

There was no self-medication going on. He didn’t use. He didn’t drink. He didn’t cut himself – although he pondered the idea more than once. No, Dean’s drug of choice was the same as it had always been: _Cas_. He sought out news about his lost love and consumed it like a man starving to death.

He knew in October when Cas aced his make-up exams and got his diploma. He knew in November when Berkeley sent Cas a congratulatory letter on his recovery and re-extended their acceptance offer for the Spring semester. He knew in late December when Michael and Gabriel packed up Cas’ ugly car and began the eighteen-hundred mile journey to Central California.

He knew when Michael and Gabriel flew back alone ten days later, their little brother officially pre-med and safely installed in his new dorm room.

By the time his birthday rolled around, he was a virtual recluse. In a detached sort of way, Dean was aware that he was – emotionally at least – spectacularly unhealthy.

The evening of January 24th Mary tapped lightly on his door. “Honey,” she called, “could you come downstairs for a little while please?”

“Go away,” Dean answered, muffled by pillows and blankets.

“Dean Michael Winchester, you will get your ass out of bed and come downstairs right this instant or-“

The combination of his mother’s tone, language and use of his full name propelled Dean up and out of bed embarrassingly fast. He threw open the door before she had a chance to complete her threat.

“Fine,” he said, holding his hands up in supplication. “Lemme get changed and I’ll come down, OK?”

“You have three minutes.”

“Yeah, no pressure, mom!” he yelled at her retreating back.

 _Four_ minutes later, and feeling slightly rebellious, Dean made his way downstairs and into the kitchen where he stopped cold.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

In addition to his parents and Sammy the kitchen was filled, standing room only, with people. Charlie, Jo, Uncle Bobby, Michael, Gabriel and Gabriel’s wife Kali were gathered around the kitchen island. His former teammates, Victor and Kevin sat in the breakfast nook with Coach Walker. Miss Mills, his freakin’ _guidance counselor_ , was leaning on the frame of the archway that led to the living room.

There was a warm apple pie cooling on the counter, which simultaneously intrigued and irritated him because _fuck_ he hadn’t even smelled it baking, and in an instant Dean knew precisely what was going on.

“Mom… did you throw a combined birthday party slash intervention?”

Mary lifted her chin unapologetically. “Yes, Dean. Yes, I did.”

Not even the pie was worth that. “Nope, so much nope. I’m out.” He turned and marched back toward the stairs only to be thwarted by his little brother.

Who… wasn’t little anymore. Sammy stood at his full height which was suddenly, easily, on par with Dean.

“What the fuck, Sammy?” he blurted out, ignoring Jo’s giggle and Mary’s hypocritical cry of ‘language!’

“I had a bit of a growth spurt,” Sam said defensively. “Over the summer. While you were in your room refusing to see or talk to the people who love you.”

“I was recuperating.”

“Bullshit!” Sam shouted which earned another admonishment from Mary. “Your leg’s been fine for months.” He lowered his voice and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know it’s been hard, man. I know, but you’ve got to at least try to move on.”

Dean flinched at that. Moving on was something people did after a break-up or a death, but Cas didn’t die and they hadn’t broken up.

Cas _forgot_ him.

“OK, poor choice of words,” Sam said, seeing Dean’s discomfited reaction, “but dude, even if you don’t want to _move_ on… you still have to _go_ on.” The hand on Dean’s shoulder squeezed gently and then fell away. “Please?”

It was the ‘please’ that got him. “OK,” Dean whispered, relenting. “OK.”

\--

_ Nineteen Years Old _

It took a three months of studying and two separate attempts, but in early April Dean passed the test and got his GED. He quietly collected the diploma and celebrated that evening with his parents and Sam. Over dessert (blueberry this time) John asked hesitantly:

“Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do now?”

Dean nodded and pulled a folded brochure out of his back pocket. He passed it silently to his father, eyes on the half-empty plate in front of him. He heard John’s sharp intake of breath and his mother’s choked whimper. They, like Dean, knew how Cas’ parents had died and Dean also knew that they’d see this for what it was.

Going on, even if he wasn’t moving on.

John passed the brochure back to him with an almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but it was something. Dean kept the paper in his lap for the rest of the evening, fingertips absently tracing the bright red lettering:

_Kansas Fire & Rescue Training Institute._

\--


	3. Will You Recognize Me?

_ Nineteen Years Old _

Castiel felt, for lack of a better word, _wrong_.

It wasn’t being away from home; he was comfortable on campus and with his classes. His roommate was a little odd, but so was Castiel so who was he to judge? He’d made friends throughout the semester and he liked most of his professors well enough. Everything was fine. Everything in his life was working as intended and, though a little delayed, moving relatively on schedule.

So why did he feel so discontent?

At the moment he was feeling more out of it than usual. The mid-May sun was streaming annoyingly through their lone window and Castiel was bundled under his blankets, half-dozing in spite of the chronic restlessness than had plagued him since leaving Kansas.

Really, he just wanted to go home. Which was the oddest thing because he wasn’t homesick. Michael wrote him (actual on paper letters that he’d deemed a ‘dying art’.) Gabriel called and sent him care packages – mostly candy. Charlie emailed him almost every day, trying her best to get him to play some new multiplayer video game to which she’d developed an addiction. He’d even spoken to Sam Winchester a few times, just to make sure that the kid was doing OK without his weekly biology tutoring. He missed them all, of course, but not unbearably so.

Castiel sighed heavily, wishing he could figure out what the hell was really bothering him.

“You’re going to be late, Cassie,” Balthazar’s lightly accented voice drifted from their bathroom.

“My first class isn’t until ten,” Castiel responded grumpily, burrowing deeper under the covers. He was many things, but ‘a morning person’ was not one of them.

Balthazar peeked his head into the main area of the dorm room. “It’s 9:45, love.”

Naturally, because what he really needed right now was to be late to class. Again.

Sighing his irritation, Castiel dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and dressed quickly, not bothering with his hair since, despite his best efforts, it was perpetually messy. He elbowed Balthazar out of the way long enough to brush his teeth and then rushed across campus, sliding into his 10AM Organic Chem class a mere five minutes late.

As was his usual M.O., Castiel’s focus narrowed and he tunneled into his notes, making sure to write down everything that could possibly make an appearance on the following week’s final exam. He only resurfaced when the lecture ended and Professor Crowley handed out the last study guide.

“Now remember, ladies and gentlemen, this is a final exam, not a frat party,” Crowley called, raising his voice over the racket of books being put away and bags being packed. “Being fashionably late gets you locked out.” He directed the last part toward Castiel with a slightly amused expression and Castiel looked down sheepishly, knowing full well that he’d almost missed the midterm for that exact reason.

A week later found Castiel skidding to a halt outside the exam room with roughly thirty seconds to spare.

“Really, Mr. Novak,” Professor Crowley admonished and waved Castiel inside. “In you go.” He locked the door behind them and Castiel hurried to his seat, ignoring the eyeroll from his lab partner.”

“I know doctors love to be late for their own appointments, Clarence, but don’t you think you’re working on that skill a tad early?”

“ _Meg_ ,” Castiel hissed impatiently. He liked Meg well enough, but her insistence that he was going to be a physician reminded him of Michael sometimes and, far from finding that comforting, it simply made him uncomfortable.

‘ _But, you’re pre-med!’_ Meg had protested when he asked her to stop with the insinuations. Castiel hadn’t had a response to that; thinking only that it was one more thing that just didn’t feel right.

“Miss Masters,” Crowley said loudly, snapping Castiel back to the present. “I’d like to begin the exam now. That is, of course, if you and Mr. Novak are quite finished.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Meg murmured, looking at Castiel sideways. “Are we done?”

“Yes,” he replied firmly and then apologized to Professor Crowley. He knew Meg was flirting with him. She never outright expressed her interest, but Castiel wasn’t _blind._ He just… didn’t think of her that way.

Actually, he didn’t think of anyone that way and for some reason that thought made his not-homesickness feeling worse. Fortunately, before he could dwell too much on that Crowley gave the go-ahead to turn over their papers and the exam began.

\--

When he got back to the dorm two hours later, his room was empty; Balthazar presumably still in the middle of an exam. Castiel’s phone, which he didn’t even realize he’d forgotten, was sitting on his desk. He turned it on and a voicemail notification popped up. He tapped the tiny envelope and Sam Winchester’s voice floated into his ear.

“ _Uh, hey Castiel. It’s Sam. I’m sorry to bug you during finals, but I wanted to see when you were going to be home for the summer. I’ve got exams in a few weeks and I was hoping you’d be willing to help me study for biology. My dad’ll pay you, of course. Call me back whenever, thanks!”_

Smiling, Castiel hit redial to return the call.

 _“Hello?”_ a gruff voice answered after several rings.

“Hello, is Sam available? This is Castiel.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line; long enough for Castiel to wonder if the call had been dropped. “Hello?”

 _“Sorry,”_ and then the sound of a throat clearing. “ _Sam went to the movies with a… friend.”_

“Oh, not to worry. I can try him back another time.” Castiel paused a moment. “Is – is this Dean?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Hello, Dean.”

There was another pause and then a shaky sounding breath. “ _Hey, Cas.”_

“How are you, Dean? Your brother mentioned several weeks ago that you were doing well. I assume that means there was no lasting trauma from the accident?”

Dean laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. _“I’m fine.”_

Castiel frowned at the phone. Dean certainly didn’t _sound_ fine. “All right,” Castiel said, not wanting to pry. “But you know you can talk to me if you’re ever… not fine. I know we’ve never been close friends, but I’m always happy to be an ear to listen.”

 _“Jesus,”_ Dean whispered and then sighed softly. “ _I appreciate that, Cas. I’ll be sure to tell Sammy that you called.”_

“Thank you, Dean and you have a nice evening. Love you.”

_“Love you too, Cas.”_

Castiel was halfway down the hall and headed for the common room before he realized what had just happened. He made a mad dash back to his desk and as he reached it his phone began to vibrate. He recognized the Winchester’s number on the display and answered it, speaking frantically without even a ‘hello.’

“Dean, oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I have no idea where that came from. It just came _out_ like… like habit or something. I don’t even know _why_. Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” Breathing heavily, Castiel forced himself to shut up but on the other end of the line, Dean remained silent.

 _“Hey, no worries, Cas,”_ Dean said eventually, his voice stilted and distant.

Castiel was mortified. Dean must think he was the most socially awkward person on the planet and yes, his people skills were a bit rusty, but he usually managed to get through most days without completely humiliating himself. Castiel rubbed his scrunched forehead. “Thanks. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to try very hard to forget that just happened.”

For some reason, Dean laughed at that; a sudden bark of bitter laughter followed by: “ _I’m sure that won’t be a problem,”_ and then the line was dead.

\--

I wasn’t until much later that night as Castiel laid in hid bed listening to Balthazar’s soft snores disrupt the quiet that he realized Dean had said ‘love you, too.’

\--

_ Twenty-Four Years Old _

“Why am I here again?”

Charlie grinned at him. “Because you made the somewhat colossal mistake of telling me that you’d never been to a strip club and you know how much I love being a bad influence!”

Castiel frowned at her. “’Bad influence’ would imply that we’re doing something wrong. Exotic dancing is perfectly legal and it’s certainly not these women’s fault that society puts some sort of stigma on displaying the human body.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Cas. You are a walking boner killer.”

Blinking, Castiel replied, “Charlie you don’t have a pe- oh you’re being facetious.”

Charlie sighed dramatically and went back to watching the dancers. Castiel observed her for a while. The women on stage, lovely though they were, did nothing for him. He preferred to study his friends and add to his knowledge of them. Balthazar used to tell him it was creepy, but Castiel had come to terms with his own idiosyncrasies.

“Charlie?” He asked after seeing her do it several times. “Why do you keep checking the door? Are you expecting someone?”

“What? Dude, no,” she said quickly and unconvincingly. Then her eyes widened and narrowed again so swiftly Castiel could’ve convinced himself he’d imagined it. “Hey, Dean and Benny are here. Let’s go sit with them!”

Before Castiel could comment, much less protest, Charlie grabbed his wrist and dragged him across the club. When they reached the table currently occupied by two members of the Lawrence Fire Department, Charlie shoved him unceremoniously in the booth next to Dean before seating herself next to Benny and leering at him.

“Does the missus know you’re here, Captain?” Charlie teased.

Benny rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Of course,” he laughed and gestured at Dean. “I’m under strict orders to get this one out of the house and show him a good time.”

“For fuck’s sake, Benny,” Dean grumbled. “You’re embarrassing me.” Castiel sympathized. Charlie was on a similar mission and he doubted things would end well.

Benny raised his eyebrows and regarded Dean coolly. “She also told me to try and get you laid.”

“Benny!”

“Well, whaddaya know! That’s the reason I brought Cas out too!” Charlie clapped with glee and actually gave Benny a high-five while Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Needing to do _something_ to alleviate Dean’s obvious unease, Castiel laid a hand gently on his arm. Dean’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“What are you-“ he began, looking down to where Castiel was touching him.

“Our friends just want us to be happy, Dean. Sometimes we must forgive them their methods.” Castiel smiled at Dean who looked at him quizzically for a moment before covering Castiel’s hand with his own. For a little while they sat quietly and the music and catcalls of the club faded away.

“Oh shit!” Charlie exclaimed and Castiel jumped a bit. He’d quite forgotten that she was there. Her phone was in her hand and she was studying it intently. “I forgot I was supposed to meet Jo tonight. Hey, Benny can you give me a ride? We came in Cas’ car and I’d hate to make him pack it in so early.”

“Really, Charlie, it’s no trouble.”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” Benny piped in as though Castiel hadn’t spoken. “You ready to go now?”

Charlie nodded and slid out of the booth before kissing Castiel goodbye. “I’m sure you’ll make sure that Dean gets home OK?”

“Yes, of course but-“

Benny interrupted him again, speaking to Dean this time. “G’night, brother, see you for that double in a few days, all right?”

Dean, staring at his ladder mate darkly, didn’t respond and Benny didn’t wait for an answer. He and Charlie were gone, leaving Castiel with an increasingly irritated looking Dean.

Frankly, Castiel was confused. Benny was apparently trying to push Dean into some sort of impromptu sexual encounter and Charlie’s motives were similar. Yet, they had left Castiel and Dean together in possibly the most thinly-veiled ‘oh I forgot my plans’ cliché _ever_.

He looked at Dean. He was an attractive man and Castiel had always appreciated the way Dean was with Sam. He was a firefighter which carried a certain kind of rugged nobility. Castiel had never had much interest in sex, but he couldn’t deny feeling a spark of… something when Dean met his gaze and smiled. They were still practically holding hands and the warmth of Dean’s skin was intriguing.

“Our friends are fucking assholes, aren’t they Cas?” Dean joked and Castiel burst out laughing.

And just like that, despite the locale with its irritating pop music and rude patrons, Castiel was completely at ease.

\--

_ Nineteen Years Old _

Standing on the Winchester’s front porch, Castiel fanned himself vigorously with the plastic folder of biology notes he’d brought with him. It was early June, not quite summer, but Lawrence didn’t seem to care. Ninety degrees out and it was barely past Noon.

After what felt like forever, the door opened and Dean appeared in front of him. To his horror, Castiel felt himself blush furiously. This was his first encounter with Dean since the ill-fated ‘I love you’ conversation and his efforts to forget it ever happened had failed spectacularly.

Fortunately, Dean had the good grace not to mention the incident. Instead, he showed him into the kitchen where Sam was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, biology textbook and notebook ready to go. Dean quietly excused himself while Castiel and Sam got to work.

Ninety minutes and two practice tests later, Sam put down his pencil and flexed his hand. “Thanks, man,” he said earnestly. “I feel a lot better about this exam now.”

“It was my pleasure, Sam,” Castiel said, smiling. “I enjoy tutoring you.”

“Yeah well, you’re good at it. I mean, give me Stats or Civics and I’m good to go, but this shit is like a foreign language.”

“To be fair, there is quite a lot of Latin.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that makes you my translator.” He yawned, stretching his arms over his head before saying offhand, “too bad you’re doing all that pre-med stuff. You should totally be a teacher.”

Castiel paused in the middle of putting his things away and blinked at him. “Really? You think I’d be good at that?”

Sam walked with him back to the front door and clapped him on the back. “No, dude – I think you’d be _awesome_ at that.”

Castiel walked home in a daze. Before he left for college he’d never really questioned his path to medical school. He had a deep love for the hard sciences and the material came naturally to him. Putting that talent into the medical field had seemed like the logical progression of things, but Sam’s insistence that he would be a good educator were exacerbating his own doubts about what had seemed, for so long, like a given.

Letting himself into the house, he sat quietly in the living room, deep in thought. Which is how Michael found him several hours later, the room beginning to dim as the sun went down.

“Castiel, are you all right?”

“Michael.”

“Yes?”

“Berkeley.”

“What about it?”

In his peripheral vision, Castiel saw Michael cock his head to the side in concern. He turned and met his brother’s eyes.

“How would you feel if I didn’t go back?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't already abundantly clear, I have a thing for song lyrics as Story/Chapter titles.
> 
> Also, I love Benny and I love Charlie so they're not going away.
> 
> The video game Castiel alludes to is, in fact, World of Warcraft. It might be a cliche for Charlie to play that, but as an eleven-year veteran of Azeroth, I'm ALLOWED, dammit. FOR THE HORDE!


	4. Look My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hang on boys and girls. This is where Mercy starts to earn her "explicit" rating. The age of consent in Kansas is sixteen so I did not apply the “underage” warning to this chapter or story. That being said, there is upcoming consensual sexual contact between two characters who are not yet eighteen so if that bother you, please back out now.

_ Twenty-Four Years Old _

“I think I’m going to ask Jess to marry me.”

Choking messily on his drink, Dean turned toward his brother and sputtered, “ _Excuse_ me?”

Sam grabbed a cocktail napkin and dabbed at the beer-infused spittle that had landed on his arm, shooting Dean a disgusted glance. “I said, I’m going to ask Jess to marry me.” He looked across Bobby’s dimly lit tavern where they’d gathered with friends to celebrate the end of Sam’s junior year of college. Dean followed his gaze to where Jess was animatedly chatting with Bobby and Jo.

Dean was admittedly blindsided. Sure, he liked Jess. She was funny and just the right combination of sarcastic and sweet and, considering she went to Stanford with Sam, obviously smart. John and Mary seemed to adore her and sure, he knew Sam was serious about her, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought her home for the _entire_ summer break. But still.

“You’re only twenty!” Dean protested. “You’re too young to settle down like that! I know she’s a nice girl, but is she worth ruining your life over?” He turned to his friends for help. Benny shrugged, Cas kept his eyes averted and Charlie seemed torn between confusion and excitement. _Assholes_. He looked back at his brother, affecting an expression of disapproval.

Sam stared at him, hurt, shock and anger warring on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was shaking. “You goddamn hypocrite! You were, what, all of seventeen when you proposed to-“

Dean’s eyes widened, but thankfully Sam’s accusation was cut off by the sound of glass breaking. He whipped his head around to the other side of the table where Charlie was fretting over her beer bottle which was now in jagged shards on the peanut shell-covered floor. Castiel slipped under the table and out of the booth to help her clean up while Benny regarded Dean with empathy in his eyes.

“I’ll take care of these,” Castiel mumbled, his hands full of wet napkins and glass.

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” Charlie hissed at Sam as soon as Castiel was out of earshot. “Dean is _just_ getting used to the idea of being friends with Cas again and you’re going to fuck that up because he’s worried about you?” Her voice turned low and threatening. “ I love you like an annoying little brother, Sam, but if you hurt Dean _or_ Cas with your fucking young adult angst bullshit I will use my not-inconsiderable computer skills to erase you so hard your own mother won’t be sure you exist.”

Sam recoiled from Charlie’s vicious expression and really, Dean couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen Charlie angry before. Frankly, she was kinda scary. Still, he managed to arrange his face into something resembling triumph as he raised his eyebrows in Sam’s direction.

“And _you_ ,” Charlie turned on Dean, “stop being a judgmental dick. He’s your brother, not your kid.”

Dean blinked at her. She was right, he knew that, which just pissed him off more. But then Sam spoke and Dean’s anger started to thaw.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said quietly. “I know things with Cas are… difficult for you. I’m sorry if the whole proposal thing is a sore spot... especially today.” He looked down at his hands which were nervously shredding a napkin.

“Today?” Benny asked.

“Anniversary of the accident,” Charlie explained and Benny sucked in breath through his teeth.

Dean ignored their looks of pity and focused on working through his anger at his brother. Deep down he knew the real issue wasn’t Jess and Sam, but him and Cas. His brother would marry Jess and be happy. Dean would go home to an empty bed; trying desperately to be content as the friend of the man who didn’t remember their relationship.

But none of that was Sam’s fault.

“I’m sorry too,” Dean relented. “Jess is an amazing girl. You need to lock that shit down.”

Sam smiled and the tension at the table eased considerably. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Castiel appeared and tried to slide back into the booth next to Charlie.

“Woah! Cas, what happened? Benny said, looking at Castiel’s hands.

Dean looked over. Castiel was holding his hand up by his face, inspecting a thin line of blood that was running down his arm from a clean slice on the heel of his palm.

“Oh,” Cas said in mild surprise.

“Move, Sammy,” Dean ordered and slipped out of the booth after his brother. “C’mon, Cas. I’ve got a first aid kit in my car.” He knew damn well that Bobby had one behind the bar, but for all his caution in rebuilding his relationship with Castiel he really just didn’t want anyone else touching him.

Obediently, Castiel followed him outside and across the parking lot to where Dean had parked the Impala safely away from other cars. He didn’t like taking chances with tipsy patrons smacking their car doors into his Baby.

“Dean?” Castiel asked while Dean unlocked the Impala. “Who were you engaged to?”

Dean froze, hand gripping the door handle. “Why?” he asked, trying to give himself time to come up with an answer.

“You just… seemed upset and we’ve known each other for so long.” Castiel sighed. “You know what, I’m being unbearably rude. It’s none of my business, forgive me.”

Dean opened the car door and began rummaging around “It’s OK. It was a long time ago and it didn’t come to anything. He moved on.” That was as close to the truth as Dean was willing to get. Mentally crossing his fingers that Cas would let it go, he pulled the white plastic box out of his glove compartment and used an antiseptic wipe to clean the blood off of Cas’ skin before gently pressing it to the wound.

Castiel inhaled sharply and his arm tensed.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured, lifting the wipe away to inspect the cut. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but he still wanted to wrap it up to keep it clean. He pulled a cotton bandage and a strip of gauze out of the kit. He looked up. Cas was staring at the car.

“I don’t think I ever told you, but this is amazing work. You restored her so beautifully.”

No part of Dean wanted to talk or even think about the accident, especially not today, but he _was_ proud of his Baby. “Thanks. My dad and I did it together; had to rebuild the entire front end.”

Cas looked like it was going to say something else about the car so Dean distracted him. “Hey, take this OK?” He handed the bandage to Cas. “Hold this over the cut but don’t put any pressure on it OK?”

Cas nodded and followed Dean’s instructions, holding the square of cotton in place and looking up at him with an open, trusting expression. Carefully, Dean wound the gauze around Casitel’s hand, threading it between his thumb and forefinger to reduce the loss of motion. Once the gauze was in place, Castiel moved his fingers to hold the bandage together while Dean secured it with a piece of medical tape.

“There,” Dean said, smiling at his handiwork, “all better.”

Then, without thinking, he raised Castiel’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into the palm, rubbing gentle circles into Cas’ pulse point with his thumb. It wasn’t until he’d lowered Castiel’s and hand looked up that he realized what he’d done. Cas was staring at him, eyes wide and pupils dilated. His lips were red, wet and parted; his breathing off.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed. He knew an aroused Castiel when he saw one.

It seemed like slow motion, watching Cas tilt his head to the side in consideration before bringing his uninjured hand up to Dean’s cheek. Dean felt himself lean into the touch.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, “I would very much like to kiss you.” He slid the hand cupping Dean’s cheek down to his jaw, rubbing gently at the stubble there. “Will you let me kiss you?”

\--

_ Seventeen Years Old _

“Did you bring anything?” Dean panted into Castiel’s mouth.

The windows were fogged opaque and it was warm in the car despite the fact that outside it was dark and February and _freezing._ They were wedged into the backseat of the Impala and parked behind an abandoned barn next to an old wheat field. Were he not shirtless and two fingers deep in his naked boyfriend, Dean would’ve laughed at the Midwest cliché of it all.

Castiel made a whining noise against his lips and rocked in his lap, arching his back as he rode Dean’s fingers. “I didn’t – I didn’t think we’d need… _fuck_ that feels good... we were supposed to be going to a movie!”

Dean leaned forward and took out his frustration on Cas’ nipples, biting at them gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“What about the one in your wallet?” Castiel asked, scratching his blunt nails down Dean’s back.

“We used it yesterday,” Dean reminded him, “you fucked me in the locker room after practice.”

Cas let out a throaty chuckle which Dean correctly interpreted as ‘yeah, I did.’ Of course, their shared amusement didn’t change the fact that they still lacked a very basic necessity.

Rule number one of car sex was: ‘condoms’.

Rule number two was supposed to be: ‘not while driving’; but Cas had thrown _that_ one out the window on the way to the Homecoming game; slipping his hand inside Dean’s pants and jerking him off until he came, wet and messy, in his underwear. Dean had spent a good chunk of the first quarter cleaning up in the restroom, ignoring the knowing looks from their friends when he finally made it to their spot on the bleachers and petulantly stole Cas’ soda.

They were both virgins when they started so there was no concern about weird diseases and they certainly weren’t worried about knocking each other up, but sex with lube (or in this case lotion from a travel size tube his mom had left in the car at some point) was messy enough and the last thing Dean wanted was to explain semen stains in the back of his Baby. So, rule number one – condoms.

Of course… there was one exception to that rule.

Dean pulled his fingers free and wrapped his arms around Castiel, guiding them gently down until Cas was lying on his back across the seat with Dean braced above him. “C’mon, baby,” he urged softly, “open up those sexy legs for me, hmm?”

Moaning and breathless, Castiel let his knees fall apart and Dean slotted himself between them, capturing his boyfriend’s lips in a soft kiss. He loved being with Cas like this, feeling them fit together so perfectly. He loved knowing that no one else had ever touched Cas like this, held him like this, been with him like this. If Dean had his way, no one else ever would.

“Love you so much,” Dean whispered, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s. He reached down and wrapped a hand around Cas’ cock, stroking him slowly. “Wish I could fuck you right now, but I guess I’ll just have to make do with sucking you off, won’t I?”

Castiel’s response was an incoherent cry that might’ve been Dean’s name.

Dean kissed his way down Cas’ torso, stopping to flick his tongue over Castiel’s nipples again. He bypassed Cas’ dick, chuckling at his boyfriend’s frustrated whine, and sucked a bruise into his thigh.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped, “Dean, please.”

“Please what?” He licked a slow, wet stripe up the underside of Cas’ cock and looked up. Cas was completely wrecked, his face turned toward the back seat. His eyes were shining and desperate. “Hey,” Dean said in his most soothing voice, wiping away a tear clinging to Castiel’s lashes, “I got you.”

Dean braced himself with one hand and wrapped the other around the base of Cas’ dick before swallowing as much of his length as he could, bobbing his head up and down as he sucked.

Cas gasped and arched under him. “Jesus, your mouth,” he hissed, his fingers threading through Dean’s hair. Dean smiled around him and sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and pumping his fist in sync with his mouth. He was impossibly hard in his jeans and dangerously close to coming untouched just from watching Cas fall apart.

He lost himself in Castiel’s moans, the way he gasped Dean’s name like a prayer. Dean licked and kissed his way up Cas’ erection, tonguing at the slit and lapping up the precome leaking out before swallowing him whole again.

“Dean,” Cas warned, “I’m gonna – Dean, I’m coming!” Dean hummed his approval and Cas went still beneath him, coming in sharp pulses on Dean’s tongue. Dean drank him in, moaning low in the back of his throat. As soon as he pulled off, Cas sat up and pressed against him, shoving his tongue into Dean’s mouth and his hand into Dean’s pants. He pressed hard against Dean’s erection and Dean came almost instantly, bucking into Castiel’s grip and soaking his boxers.

They collapsed in a sweaty heap.

“Well,” Cas said, breathing heavily, “at least the car is clean, right?”

Dean snorted and pressed his face into Castiel’s stomach knowing Cas would feel Dean smiling against his skin.

\--

_ Twenty-Four Years Old _

“Dean,” Cas whispered, “I would very much like to kiss you.” He slid the hand cupping Dean’s cheek down to his jaw, rubbing gently at the stubble there. “Will you let me kiss you?”

Dean didn’t whimper. He did _not_.

“Yeah, Cas,” he heard himself say, “you can kiss me.”

And exactly six years after their last kiss Castiel leaned forward and brought their lips together; tentative, almost virginal.

Dean lowered his hands to Cas’ hips, gripping them tightly before sliding his arms around Castiel’s waist and crushing their bodies together. Cas’ tongue licked at the seam of his lips and Dean let him in, groaning as Cas mapped the inside of Dean’s mouth.

It was that, the eagerness with which Castiel explored him that brought Dean back to himself. He pulled away, backing up against the Impala and when Cas tried to follow Dean put a hand up to stop him.

Castiel took a step backward. “Did – did I do something wrong?”

“Christ, Cas, no.” Dean said quickly. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Cas made a face. “Really? That old chestnut?”

Dean braced his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. Greedy for contact, but desperate to keep his former lover at literal arm’s length. “I know, it’s a fucking cliché, but I promise you Cas, it _really_ is me. I just – don’t want to mess up what we have, you know?”

That wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough. Feeling Cas against him again had been indescribably wonderful, but there was no way Dean could take advantage of him like that. Without Cas’ memory intact there was simply no way to have the open, honest relationship they both deserved.

Cas looked at him, his expression unreadable. “All right. I respect that and you for being candid with me.” He looked back toward the tavern. “Should we go back inside?”

Dean shook his head. If there was one thing about which he was confident it was that he was in no way equipped to deal with his friends right now. “You go,” he said. “I’m – I’m gonna head home. Long day. Can you make sure Sam gets a ride?”

Cas smiled at him and Dean’s heart ached. “Of course, Dean. You have a good night.” He stepped back as Dean got into the car and turned the key, Baby’s engine roaring.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot, onto the street and away from the love of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't sex and drive.


	5. So Real in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sexual content between two characters that are not yet eighteen.
> 
> Trigger warning for use of alcohol as a coping mechanism.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when his phone rang at 2:09am and Cas’ number lit up the display. Though he could say with absolute certainty that he wasn’t expecting to hear Garth’s voice on the line; nor was he expecting irritation in the normally cheerful man’s voice. Dean was still shaking away the cobwebs of sleep when he managed to register what Garth was saying.

_“You wanna get your ass down here and mop your friend off the floor please?”_

Garth was calling from Cas’ phone. That meant Cas was in trouble. Dean was awake instantly. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with him? Is he OK? What happened?” He leapt out of bed and began pulling on whatever clothes were closest to him.

_“I mean ‘come get him’,”_ Garth replied, _“and my answers to your latter three questions are all the same: I don’t know. Hurry up before he pukes all over Bobby’s floor and I’m stuck dealing with it.”_

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mumbled to himself, already outside and throwing himself behind Baby’s wheel. It was October and though it had been an unseasonably warm autumn so far, it was chilly in the wee hours of the morning. If Dean had been able to think about anything other than Castiel, he’d have regretted leaving his leather jacket behind.

He got to Bobby’s tavern ten minutes later to find the door locked and the closed sign flipped in the window. “Garth!” he yelled, hammering on the door. “Open up, man!”

After another minute or so of increasingly frantic knocking, the door to the tavern swung open and Garth stalked away, leaving Dean to tag along behind him like an overanxious puppy. He weaved through the tables covered with their upside down chairs and back into Bobby’s office where Castiel lay sprawled and, at first glance, unconscious on the threadbare carpet.

Panicked, Dean dropped to his knees next to Cas and cupped the other man’s face in his hands. “Cas, baby, wake up!” He heard himself drop the endearment, but he was too freaked out to worry about it.

Cas mumbled something unintelligible and opened his eyes. He looked in Dean’s direction with no discernable focus and Dean rounded on Garth.

“What the fuck, dude, why didn’t you cut him off!?”

Garth gaped at him, clearly offended. “Cut him off? He came _in_ here like this!” He folded his skinny arms over his skinny chest and leaned his skinny self against the wall. “He waltzed through the door ten minutes before closing, climbed up _onto_ the bar and decided to take a nap. It took me and Ash _and_ Jo to drag him back here.” He glanced at Cas, still prone on the floor. “Fucker’s heavier than he looks.”

Dean looked back down at his drunk friend who was struggling to sit up. “Hey,” he whispered, running his hands through Castiel’s messy hair. “What happened, man?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dean said, tipping Castiel’s chin up, trying to get him to make eye contact.

“Hello – ooooh, the room is spinning.” Cas whined.

Despite the situation, Dean chuckled a bit. Even sloppy drunk, Cas was adorable and Dean fucking loved him. “What did you do, Cas?”

“I found a liquor store and I drank it,” Cas mumbled, curling in on himself and cradling his head in his hands.

“Christ on a cracker, Cas,” Dean shook his head, sighing and stood up. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He reached down and pulled Castiel gently to his feet, steadying him when he swayed backward dangerously. Draping Cas’ arm around his shoulders, Dean slipped an arm around Castiel’s waist. As they passed Garth, Dean took Cas’ phone and said, “thank you for looking after him and thank you for calling me.”

Garth shrugged. “No one else I could call, man,” he said. “For the few minutes he was coherent all he did was say ‘I want Dean’.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, processing the possible implications of Castiel asking for Dean while in this state. They were friends now, good friends actually. ‘Pizza and beer every Friday and weekends out with their mutual friends’ kind of friends. He enjoyed Cas’ company and sometimes, when it was just the two of them watching Netflix or some boring ass documentary that Castiel claimed was ‘enriching,’ Dean could almost believe that he and Cas were really together again.

But this… this was different. Gabriel and his wife had moved away, but Michael was still here and yet Cas had asked for Dean. Not Michael, his family, no, Cas had asked for _him_.

Dean pushed those thoughts away and focused on getting Castiel home safely. He thanked Garth again and half walked, half dragged Cas outside and poured him into the front seat. He rolled the window down, hoping that the fresh, crisp air would help settle Castiel’s stomach during the drive.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of Cas’ little brick townhome just off the KU campus. Cas claimed his attachment to the house was because it was close to the elementary school, but Dean thought it was really because this was where Cas moved when he came back from Berkeley. Dean thought it symbolized Castiel’s independence, something his friend prided himself on.

Dean wondered for a moment if maybe _that’s_ why Cas hadn’t asked for Michael.

He glanced at his passenger and blinked in surprise. Castiel was awake, staring at him with confused but focused eyes.

“Dean?”

“Hey, you doing OK?”

“I feel… not good, actually. Did you bring me home?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s get you inside and into bed, OK?”

Castiel hitched in a breath and closed his eyes before whispering, “OK, Dean.”

They walked slowly and gingerly up the stone steps and into the house. There was an awkward moment where Dean leaned Cas up against the door to fish his friend’s keys out of his coat pocket. For his part, Castiel was no help, blinking at him uselessly while Dean pawed through his clothes.

Finally, Dean got him inside, upstairs and onto the bed. After making sure Cas wasn’t going anywhere, he ran back downstairs for much needed water and pain meds. When he returned to the bedroom, Cas had rolled onto his side and was taking deep breaths through his nose.

“Drink this and take these,” Dean ordered, holding the glass of water and two Tylenol in front of Castiel’s face. Cas took it the water, grimacing at the cold, but sucked the whole thing down with the pills before collapsing back onto his bed. Dean set the water glass down and pulled Cas back up, gently removing his coat and tie. The simple act of undressing Castiel, even in this state, was taking its toll and to his chagrin he felt himself hardening.

All he wanted to do was get Cas comfortable but he couldn’t stop himself from perving out all over his former lover. Eventually, Cas batted Dean’s hands away and shimmed up the bed, still in his dress shirt, pants and shoes. He gave Dean a look that could only be described as ‘pouty.’

“You,” Cas slurred, waving his hand in Dean’s direction, “don’t want me.” He actually _giggled_ a bit and looked down to where Dean’s erection was making itself known, a thick, hard line pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “I mean you want me,” Castiel continued, “but you don’t _want_ me.”

_Jesus Christ. What fresh hell was **this**?_

“Come on, Cas,” Dean mumbled, abandoning all hope of getting Cas undressed and into bed. He settled for pulling off his friend’s sensible black loafers and flinging the comforter over him. “Sleep it off, OK?”

Up until now, Dean considered his willpower with regard to Castiel to be extraordinary. He’d never stopped wanting him, loving him, needing him like fucking air to breathe, but it simply couldn’t happen – not while Castiel remained in the dark about their lost love. It would have been taking advantage of Cas to an absurd degree and no matter how badly Dean wanted him back, Castiel’s trust meant more than anything else.

But in that moment, with Cas vulnerable and raw, Dean wanted to gather the man in his arms and never let go.

He needed to get out of the room. He needed to go downstairs and curl up on the couch like a good friend and in the morning make Cas something greasy and fattening to take the edge off of what was likely going to be a killer hangover.

“I’m gonna crash on the couch, OK?” Dean told the Castiel shaped lump in the bed. “If you need something just shout.”

Cas huffed at him and snuggled deeper into the covers. Satisfied that Castiel was as comfortable as he was going to get, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to leave. He’d do what he said, be a good friend and sleep on the couch. He wasn’t leaving Cas alone in this condition.

Just as he reached the bedroom door Castiel’s voice drifted from the bed, freezing him in his tracks.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas said quietly and clearly. “I wish you loved me too.”

\--

_ Seventeen Years Old _

“This is ridiculous, Dean.”

“You’re the one who brought it over!”

“Yes, but I wasn’t aware it was going to be so… so… _graphic_.”

“It’s a _porno_ , Cas. The whole point is for it to be graphic.”

“I just don’t see how we’re supposed to learn anything from this.”

“Jesus, Cas, it’s not a fucking documentary.”

“Well, perhaps if they made _fucking_ documentaries I wouldn’t have had to ask Gabriel to rent me a homosexual erotic film.”

Grimacing, Dean grabbed the remote and switched off his little TV. “OK, first of all please never mention either of your brothers while we’re naked. Secondly, I don’t see what the big deal is. We know the basics, here right?” Dean flopped back onto his pillows, stroking his half-hard cock while looking Castiel up and down. Sure, the dudes screwing onscreen had been kinda hot, but nothing got him going like his sexy-as-fuck boyfriend.

Cas straddled Dean’s thighs and grasped his own dick, fisting the length while he watched Dean work himself. “I want to fuck you, Dean,” he breathed and Dean heard himself moan, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean reached under his pillow and pulled out the bottle of lube they’d been using to jerk each other off. He held it out to Castiel who took it, almost reverently, with his free hand. “I trust you,” Dean said quietly. “Just go slow, OK?”

Cas nodded and slid back so Dean could open his legs. Castiel considered the angle for a moment and then said, “I think it would be easier if you turned over.”

Dean shook his head. “I need to see you.” He grabbed and extra pillow and wedged it under his hips. “Is this better?”

“Oh, yes, much!” Cas said excitedly and Dean chuckled warmly at his enthusiasm before pulling his knees up and spreading himself open.

“Well then, get to it, baby. My ass isn’t going to fuck itself.”

“So bossy,” Cas grumbled, slicking his fingers liberally. He leaned forward and pressed against Dean’s entrance, pausing to say, “you tell me if it hurts, OK?”

Dean, already loving the sensation of Castiel touching him, could only nod. Slowly, Castiel slid the first finger inside, pumping it gently. It burned a little and Dean winced, but he quickly brushed off Cas’ concern. “I’m OK, keep going.”

Castiel added a second finger carefully, crooking them slightly and searching for that spot that Dean knew Cas had probably done copious amounts of research on. He found it and Dean threw his head back, gasping his pleasure by chanting Cas’ name like a prayer.

Still fucking Dean with his fingers, Castiel draped himself over Dean and sucked an earlobe into his mouth before whispering, “next time, I’m going to lick you open. Slide my tongue between your cheeks and rim you until you scream. Fuck your tight little hole with my mouth until you’re begging for my cock.”

Dean felt his entire body suffuse with heat. He clutched desperately at Castiel’s back. Who fucking knew his mild-mannered, virginal boyfriend could talk like _that_. He almost didn’t realize that Cas had added a third finger until he felt pressure on his prostate again and arched off the bed, whimpering incoherently.

“I wonder if I could make you come like this,” Cas growled into his ear.

Dean shook his head frantically, “please don’t, Cas. Please. Want you to fuck me.” He didn’t care that he was begging. He’d never been so turned on; never wanted anything as much as Castiel. “I’m ready, Cas,” Dean breathed. “Need you. Please. Need you so much.”

“I got you,” Cas murmured soothingly, sliding his fingers out. Dean felt himself clench around the sudden emptiness and he moaned impatiently.

Castiel propped himself up and slung Dean’s left leg over his shoulder, leaving Dean to wrap the other leg around Cas’ waist. He nudged Dean’s opening with the head of his cock before looking back up to make sure Dean was OK. “Is this all right?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded wordlessly, trying to convey how perfectly OK it was by gripping Castiel’s arms and trying to slide down onto his cock. Apparently that was good enough for Cas. He reached down and guided his cock into Dean, breathing hard with the effort of going slowly.

“Oh, Dean,” he breathed, looking down to where they were joined. “I wish you could see this.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss into Dean’s raised calf. “So beautiful,” he moaned. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered, “please please please.” He pulled Castiel down flush against him, desperate for friction against his own aching erection.

“I got you,” Cas repeated and began thrusting experimentally, slow, shallow rolls of his hips that dragged across Dean’s prostate, making white hot waves of pleasure sweep through him.

“Don’t let me go,” Dean begged, threading his fingers into his boyfriend’s hair.

Cas shook his head before leaning down to capture Dean’s lips, kissing him slowly and thoroughly. “Never,” he swore against Dean’s mouth. “I love you.” He snapped his hips forward, fucking into Dean harder and harder until they were both trembling and gasping for breath.

Dean worked a hand between them and grabbed his dripping cock, pumping himself furiously while Castiel stared at him, unblinking.

“Fuck, Dean,” he growled, “that’s so fucking hot. I’m not gonna… I can’t… Christ, tell me you’re almost there. I’m so close, Dean, so fucking close.” His thrusts were erratic; hard and deep and _exactly_ what Dean needed.

One last stroke of his dick and Dean came hard, painting his belly white and screaming his boyfriend’s name. Castiel fucked him through his climax until the clenching of Dean’s ass around him pushed him over the edge and came too, breathing words of love and devotion as he spilled inside Dean.

Castiel collapsed on top of him and Dean, heedless of the mess, rolled them until they were lying on their sides, facing each other.

“Love you too, by the way,” Dean grinned, slinging an arm around his new lover. They snuggled together in the afterglow until Dean broke the silence. “Cas?”

Castiel nuzzled into the crook of Dean’s neck. “Hmm?”

“Will you – I mean, would you consider maybe… and not like right now or anything, but some day…” Dean trailed off and Cas waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. He licked his lips and nudged Castiel with his shoulder, urging his boyfriend to meet his eyes.

Cas looked up at him expectantly.

“Marry me?”

Castiel gaped at him, blinking rapidly before surging forward and kissing him hard, licking into his mouth and swirling their tongues together. After a long time he pulled back, leaving them both breathless.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” Dean asked with a nervous smile.

“Fuck yes,” Castiel said forcefully. “Christ yes!” He kissed Dean again. “I love you, Dean.” Another kiss “I’ve loved you since we were ten.” And another. “I’ve loved you forever.”

Dean laughed happily, his heart so fucking full of love he thought it might actually burst. “Can I tell Sammy?” he asked, nosing at Cas’ temple. He felt Castiel nod against him.

“Well, who else is going to be your Best Man? Can I tell Charlie?”

“Well, who else is going to be your Maid of Honor?” he asked and Cas pinched him playfully.

“Happy Birthday,” Castiel said with a smile, kissing Dean’s forehead.

Dean grinned and pulled Cas closer. Happy fucking Birthday indeed.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

“I love you, Dean,” Cas said quietly and clearly. “I wish you loved me too.”

The last thread of control Dean was hanging onto snapped. He whirled around and marched back to the bed. Intent on telling Cas that he loved him, that he’d always loved him, that he’d never _stop_ loving him. Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter that Cas didn’t remember their history. Cas loved him _now_ so why couldn’t that be enough?

He dropped to his knees by the edge of the bed and reached out only to see that Castiel’s eyes had slipped closed, his breathing heavy and slow. Dean blinked and breathed out a bitter chuckle because _of course_ Cas had passed out before Dean could tell him. He brushed an errant strand of hair off of Castiel’s forehead and kissed him there, lightly enough not to wake him.

Reaching across the bed, he grabbed and extra pillow and slipped silently from the room. Once downstairs he laid down on the couch pulling Castiel’s bee-print afghan over his exhausted body. Wrapped in the scent of his friend, he allowed himself to drift off.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thought, as sleep claimed him. ‘I’ll tell him everything tomorrow.’

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end here folks. I'm thinking two chapters and an epilogue left, but that is subject to change. I hope you're all still enjoying the ride.


	6. Tell Me Your Troubles and Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think I'd let them resolve things the next morning, did you?

_ Twelve Years Old _

Castiel loved birthday parties. His own were fun, of course, but more than that, he loved other people’s birthday parties. There was something magical about watching friends laugh with delight when opening a present or playing a party game.

He was just barely self-aware enough to wonder if this love was because he actually had friends now.

Krissy Chambers’ twelfth birthday party was no exception. Even now that it was winding down, Castiel was still filled with an exhausted kind of elation that only came from several solid hours of cake and fun and more cake.

Most of the other kids were saying their goodbyes and heading home. Mrs. Winchester was going to drive Castiel home since he lived so close. So, Dean and Castiel were in the basement, waiting on her to arrive while comfortably crammed into the same oversized beanbag chair. The floor was littered with crepe paper streamers and glitter. On the far wall, a poster of a donkey sagged under the weight of a dozen misplaced tails. Next to him, Dean was a comforting presence. He stretched sleepily, dangerously close to a full-on sugar crash and turned to Castiel, gracing him with one of those lazy smiles that made Castiel feel very warm inside.

Something about the affection in Dean’s eyes made Castiel’s pubescent heart flutter. He leaned in and pressed an innocent kiss to Dean’s lips; close-mouthed and chaste. There wasn’t really time for Dean to kiss back, but he rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder and held his hand.

They would grow up and grow apart. That’s how things worked, but for a moment, Castiel let himself wonder what it would be like if Dean was his boyfriend.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

Castiel woke slowly, in increments as he always did. He was aware initially of being overheated and then of being under his covers fully dressed – which explained the overheating. His mouth was somewhat drier than the Atacama Desert and he was relatively certain that John Bonham had come back from the dead solely to perform a drum solo behind his left eye.

He chuckled a bit – which made him wince – at his subconscious _Led Zeppelin_ reference. Dean’s taste in music was clearly rubbing off on him.

_Dean._

Oh _god._

As quietly as he could, he slipped out of bed, steadying himself for a moment on the bedside table, and crept downstairs. Castiel peeked into the living room and there he was: Dean, sprawled on Castiel’s couch, covered with the afghan Castiel had spent a good chunk of the summer knitting.

There was something… _right_ about seeing Dean like that. Asleep in his home, covered with something he made. His breath hitched in his chest and he stepped back around the corner, pressing himself against the wall. He didn’t fully understand why Dean had this effect on him when literally no one else did.

He loved Dean. He was reconciled to that. He was actually _profoundly_ in love with Dean but along with that unshakeable feeling was a deep, heated longing that made Castiel feel unbalanced and out of sorts.

To put it plainly: Castiel wanted Dean. He wanted to fuck him. Or be fucked _by_ him. He wasn’t picky. He just _wanted_ him.

And Castiel had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

He peeked around the corner again and a vision swam momentarily before his eyes. Dean, putting him on the bed, trying to remove his clothes. Castiel taunting him about getting hard while doing it and then… and then… he’d said – he’d told Dean that he-

Oh holy Christ.

He turned and fled up the stairs, sliding his bedroom door shut with a quiet _snick._

His cellphone was sitting on top of his dresser. It was still on but someone, Dean in all likelihood, had plugged it in to charge. He glanced at the time to see that it was almost eleven.

Charlie opened her bookstore at ten on Sundays… usually. She should be there. He dialed with a shaking hand.

“ _Subtext, you’ve got Charlie._ ”

“It’s Cas.” Good lord, he sounded like he’d been inhaling gravel.

“ _Good morning, Casio! You sound like absolute shit. What’s up?”_

“Please stop referring to me as a Japanese electronics manufacturer.” He rolled his eyes and would almost swear they made a scratching sound. He was so _dry_. “Charlie… I may have done something… astronomically stupid.”

“ _Stupid like Harry thinking Cho Chang on the rebound was a good idea or stupid like Ned Stark trusting Littlefinger?”_

“Stupid like I’m pretty sure last night I told Dean that I love him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and then:

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Exactly.”

“ _How soon can you be here?”_

Castiel looked down at himself. There was no way he was walking out of this house without the hottest shower known to man and a good ten minutes alone with his toothbrush.

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“ _Awesome. Bring food!”_

Castiel snorted, ended the call and hurried to the bathroom for a much needed shower. Afterwards, clean, dry and comfortably dressed, he thought about Dean, asleep on his couch, and called Benny to see when Dean was due at the station again.

“ _Not until six o’clock tonight._ ” Benny paused on the line for a moment. “ _Is everything OK, Cas?”_

“Dean’s fine, yes. I’m – I was… incapacitated last night and Dean was kind enough to bring me home. I found him on my couch this morning and I don’t have the heart to wake him since I’m the reason his sleep was interrupted.” Castiel closed his eyes. This was humiliating.

Benny, of course, took it in stride. _“Understood. Feel better, brother.”_

Castiel thanked him and hung up the phone. He tiptoed back downstairs and pulled a piece of paper out of the printer to scribble a quick note to Dean. He slipped the note onto the coffee table under Dean’s cellphone, spared one last glance at the man sleeping on his couch and snuck (there was really no other word for it) out of the house.

\--

He pulled into a parking space in front of _Subtext_ and checked his phone. No messages. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Would Dean even want to talk to Castiel after his display the night before? What if his careless confession was the last straw for Dean? How many times can you deal with it when a friend throws himself at you?

Sighing, he grabbed the bag of Pad Thai he’d brought with him and headed inside. Charlie met him at the door, flipping the deadbolt and turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed,’ before drawing him into a hug.

“What is this? What’s happening?” he asked. Charlie wasn’t normally all touchy-feely.

“It’s a hug, Cas. I’m hugging you.” She pulled back, rolling her eyes, and led him to the back of the store and upstairs to her cozy apartment. She unlocked the door and they walked into the kitchen, which was also the living room and dining room.

Castiel rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Where’s Jo?” he asked, putting the bag of food down on the counter so he could grab plates. He considered his tender stomach and put his plate back. Charlie accepted hers and in turn handed him a bottle of water.

“Hydrate,” she commanded. “Jo’s at lunch with Ellen.” Charlie poked through the bag until she found a container she wanted. “Not that she wanted to go. She and Ash got _almost_ as wasted as you last night.”

Castiel felt his cheeks redden. He’d forgotten Jo was at Bobby’s last night. Now, he vaguely remembered blonde hair in his face while he was being carried into the back of the bar. This was officially the most embarrassing moment of his life. He uncapped his water and took a huge gulp.

“Didn’t feel like drinking last night?” Castiel asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his own ill-advised bender.

Charlie beamed, “Was going to, but I lucked into the _best_ threes comp and went on a hot streak,” she said, as if that explained anything. “Conquest capped before reset.” She did a little dance and grinned at him.

“That’s… good?” Castiel guessed.

“Noob,” Charlie replied and pinched him playfully. She twirled a heap of noodles and shrimp into her mouth and regarded him while chewing before she asked quietly, “what happened, Cas? I’ve seen you drink but you never let yourself lose control like that.”

Castiel leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew exactly what sent him in search of a liquor store at midnight on a Saturday. He’d been with Dean the night before partaking in their weekly beer-pizza-Netflix Friday ritual. He didn’t like driving while even slightly buzzed so – and the irony was not lost on him – he’d spent the night on Dean’s couch. He’d awoken Saturday surrounded by Dean’s scent and with a raging hard-on that went _way_ past the realm of morning wood.

Then, that night he’d gone to bed at a reasonable hour and had what was hands down the most erotic dream he’d ever had in his life.

_He was younger in his dream, late teens probably, naked and propped up on pillows on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Dean was there, shirtless and slotted between Castiel’s legs, slowly kissing his way down Castiel’s chest. He stopped for a moment to toy with a ring that was looped through a silver chain around Castiel’s neck before moving his attention to Castiel’s nipples._

_Dean suckled first one and then the other, flicking the hard nubs with his tongue while Castiel writhed and panted beneath him._

_“Dean,” Castiel breathed. “Dean, please.”_

_“Please what?” Dean asked, his voice muffled by Castiel’s skin. He nipped at the tender flesh near Castiel’s hip before sliding back up and sucking a mark into Castiel’s collarbone._

_“You naked. Now. Please, Dean, **please** ,” Castiel begged, scratching his fingernails down the other boy’s back._

_“So bossy,” Dean chuckled before kissing him once more and then drawing back to pull off his jeans and underwear. He dumped the offending garments on the ground and covered Castiel’s body with his again. “Better?”_

_“Mmm, yes,” Castiel purred happily. He hooked a leg under Dean’s knee and used the leverage to flip them over until he was on top. He took advantage of his lover’s surprise and ground his hips down, rubbing their hot, hard dicks together until they were both moaning and breathless._

_“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispered and threaded his fingers into Castiel’s hair, bringing him down for a kiss. The ring around Dean’s neck clinked softly against the one around his own._

_Castiel leaned to the side, still kissing Dean, and opened the side table drawer, digging blindly until he came up with a small bottle. He pulled away, biting gently at Dean’s bottom lip, and sat up._

_As Castiel opened the bottle and slicked his fingers, Dean grinned up at him and asked, “you gonna fuck me, Cas?”_

_Castiel looked down at him mischievously and shook his head. Dean looked at him, confused, until Castiel reached back and slid a finger inside himself. His eyes slipped closed as he stretched himself carefully, on one, then two fingers. He felt Dean’s hands slide up his thighs, steadying him as he rocked back, fucking himself open. He added a third finger, moaning loudly and Dean’s hands tightened, gripping hard enough to leave bruises._

_“Cas…” Dean whimpered and Castiel opened his eyes. Dean’s cock was hard and heavy against his belly; a shiny pearl of precome dripping from the tip. His eyes were lust-blown and his face flushed with need. “Cas, please.”_

_“Please what?” Castiel asked, thoroughly enjoying having the upper hand._

_“Ri-ride me. Please, baby, please ride me. Fuck yourself on my dick, Castiel.”_

_So much for the upper hand. Done teasing, Castiel grabbed the lube again and liberally slicked Dean’s straining erection. He flipped the bottle closed, tossed it over his shoulder and lifted himself up and then down onto Dean’s cock in one swift, fluid motion._

_“Jesus, **fuck**!” Dean shouted, throwing his head back and fisting his hands at his sides._

_“Yes,” Castiel agreed and began to move. He braced his hands on Dean’s chest, gently thumbing at his nipples while he rode him slowly._

_Dean surged up and kissed him, pressing their bodies together and fucking up into him until Castiel was fighting to keep his balance. “Hold on tight, baby,” Dean demanded and Castiel tightened his arms around Dean’s neck._

_Dean planted his hands on the bed behind him and scooched backward until his back was against the headboard, Castiel still wrapped around him like a koala. He disengaged one of Castiel’s hands and guided it to grip the slatted wood._

_Castiel grinned at him and grabbed the headboard with both hands. He used his new vantage to fuck himself down hard, bouncing and rocking on Dean’s cock until they were both gasping. Dean held him tightly, biting and sucking marks along the column of his throat._

_The friction of their bodies against his aching cock was perfect and every drag of Dean’s dick across his prostate brought him closer and closer to the edge until he toppled over, arching up and screaming Dean’s name while pulse after pulse of hot come spurted out between them._

_“Oh, Christ, Cas,” Dean moaned and crushed their mouths together, kissing Castiel through his own release. “Love you, Cas,” he whispered as they came down. “Love you, love you, love you.”_

“And then I woke up,” he said flatly, ignoring Charlie’s vaguely nauseated expression, “and felt the need to drink heavily.”

“Cas, it was a dream, and OK I’ll grant you it was obviously pretty intense, but I mean-

Castiel cut her off. “It was so _detailed_ , Charlie. I’ve never had a dream like that before.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “It didn’t feel like a dream,” he said softly. “It felt like a memory.”

Charlie gasped quietly at that and Castiel looked up at her. She looked… frightened. Charlie was _never_ frightened. She was the most fearless person he knew.

“What is it?” he asked but she just shook her head vehemently. “Charlie, talk to me… please. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.”

“I can’t, Cas. I’m sorry.” Her eyes softened and she gazed at him with so much affection and sympathy that he had to look away. “You should talk to Dean. Tell him what happened, about the dream, about how you feel.”

“I tried that already,” Castiel mumbled and held up a hand when she looked poised to interrupt. “I’m not talking about last night. We had a… moment a while back – the night Sam told us he was proposing to Jess and I cut my hand?”

Charlie nodded. “I remember that. You guys went outside but Dean didn’t come back.”

“I kissed him,” he said miserably, “outside in the parking lot. And he shot me down. He said he didn’t want to mess up ‘what we have’.” He used air quotes for the last three words.

Charlie winced. “Ouch. He friendzoned you?”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel sighed, “but yes, I suppose he wants to keep us a zone where we are just friends.”

She put her plate down and drew him into her arms again. Castiel felt himself relax the smallest bit and decided to take what comfort she was offering. Sniffling a little, he buried his face against her shoulder and hugged her back.

“Talk to Dean,” Charlie whispered into his hair. “Not right now, but soon. For his sake as much as yours, OK?”

Castiel nodded and they pulled apart. “Thank you, Charlie.”

She waved away his gratitude, plopped down on the couch and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna watch _Harry Potter_?”

Relieved, Castiel nodded, but before joining her on the couch he slipped his phone out of his pocket. There were still no messages. Pushing away his nerves, he turned the phone off and put it away.

Six hours, a frozen pizza and several of Harry’s brushes with death later, Castiel slid across the couch and rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he said.

She turned a little and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “I know.”

Tomorrow. He’d talk to Dean tomorrow.

\--

_ Twenty Years Old _

“Are you sure about this, baby brother?” Michael asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. “It’s not too late to back out.”

Castiel got out of the car, leaned against it and gazed happily up at the cozy little townhouse. “My name is on the  _mortgage,_  Michael,” he replied once his brother joined him, and laughed. “Even if I wanted to back out – which I most certainly do not – it’s definitely too late.”

Michael shook his head, bemused. “All the things you could have used your inheritance for…” He looked at Castiel thoughtfully. “Most eighteen-year old kids would’ve blown it all on frivolous crap, but  _you_ … you sit on it for two years and then buy a  _house._ ”

_Not just any house,_  Castiel thought to himself. _Krissy Chambers’ house_. Krissy, who grew up to be a talented and determined dancer, had moved to New York after graduation. Her mother, desperate to be closer to her only child, followed her eighteen months later. As soon as Castiel heard the house was on the market he’d pounced on it.

He was already investigating an oversized beanbag chair for the basement.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

But Castiel didn’t talk to Dean the day after the _Harry Potter_ marathon at Charlie’s house. He told himself it was because it was Monday and he had school. Sure, he had a planning period while his third graders were in Music class, but that was for _planning_. So, Castiel sat at his desk resolutely making lesson plans and pretending not to think about Dean.

He didn’t talk to Dean on Tuesday. He told himself it was because Dean would be coming off a double shift and would likely be too tired to talk.

He didn’t talk to Dean on Wednesday, despite three missed calls and multiple text messages. He stopped rationalizing and decided he was just a damn coward.

Thursday dawned crisp and clear. Castiel made a promise to himself that he would rip off the proverbial Band-Aid and go see Dean at the Firehouse that evening.

As it turned out, he saw Dean much sooner than that.

“Mr. Novak! Mr. Novak!”

Castiel turned away from the blackboard where he’d been drawing an example of an archipelago and raised his eyebrows at his suddenly frantic student.

“Claire? What’s wrong?”

Claire, now joined by several of her classmates, was standing by the window in the very back of the room. It was open slightly to allow fresh air in. His students had been painting before they’d moved on to social studies and the flat, rubbery smell of latex-based paint had hung heavy in the room.

“It’s Bela!” Claire shouted, close to tears. “She got out and now she’s stuck!”

Castiel looked outside and sure enough their class pet, a sleek black cat, was halfway up the huge Sycamore on the playground. Now that Castiel was closer to the window, he could hear her frightened yowling.

“You’ve got to save her, Mr. Novak!” Claire cried, her classmates agreeing in various tones of desperation.

Sighing inwardly, Castiel patted Claire on the shoulder. “Stay here,” he instructed his class. He made his way outside and looked up at the cat. “Bela,” he called softly. “Here kitty, kitty.”

Bela’s tail switched back forth but she made no move to leave the tree. In fact, she dug her claws deeper into the branch on which she was perched and hissed down at him.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled up at the terrified feline. “I’m going to have to come get you, aren’t I?”

Loosening his tie a bit, he rolled up his sleeves, leapt slightly and crooked his arm around the lowest branch. He used his momentum to swing up to a foothold before hoisting himself up and onto the branch. Before he could look around to see if Bela had moved again, an ear-piercing bell began clanging urgently from inside the school.

He looked down to see his class streaming toward him.

“We pulled the fire alarm, Mr. Novak!” Claire announced proudly.

“W-Why?!” Castiel shouted down to them.

Claire looked at him like he was stupid, which, perched on a tree branch chasing an errant cat, probably wasn’t far from the truth.

“Because firemen get cats out of trees,” Claire explained patiently and then added: “duh.”

“Run back inside and tell Principal Moseley that it’s a false alarm,” Castiel ordered calmly. “Tell her it’s just the cat and I’ve got it under control.”

“But, the firemen!”

“Now, Claire!”

Claire sighed dramatically, grabbed Jake’s hand and dragged him back toward the school. _At least she remembered the buddy system,_ Castiel thought to himself.

A movement to his left caught his eye. Bela had jumped to an adjacent branch and was stretching languorously. Carefully and slowly, Castiel pulled himself into a crouch before rising up and locking his hands around the thick branch above him that overlapped the one currently occupied by the world’s most troublesome cat.

By the time he’d swung his legs up and spun himself right side up, the fire alarm had silenced and Claire and Jake were back on the playground with the rest of the class. He was distantly aware of his students calling to him to be careful.

He slid forward in measured increments, cautious of Bela looking his way suspiciously. As soon as he reached her branch, Bela leapt gracefully to a lower branch and then down to the ground where Claire scooped her up and held her tight. Bela yawned and nuzzled Claire’s arm.

“I really hate this cat,” Castiel seethed to himself, but below him his class was cheering happily. He shook his head and started his careful descent.

As he dropped onto the lowest branch, he heard the roar of an engine pulling into the parking lot and Jake shouting that the firemen came anyway. In his haste to turn and look, Castiel’s foot slipped and he fell the last few feet to the ground, smacking his head on the same foothold he’d used to climb the damn tree in the first place.

His class rushed over, but he raised his hand with a thumbs up to indicate that he was all right. His head throbbed but he was more embarrassed than anything else.

He dimly registered the fire truck rolling to a stop and the familiar stride of his friend rushing toward him because _of course_ this would be how he would see Dean for the first time since Saturday.

“Cas? Cas, are you OK?” Dean crouched down and brought his hand up to meet Castiel’s over the knot forming near his left temple.

“I’m fine,” Castiel grumbled, not making eye contact.

“So we heard there was a cat up a tree,” Dean said, amusement evident in his voice.

Castiel sighed and nodded. “I guess I should have left it to the professionals.”

Dean laughed and stood up, offering his hand to help Castiel up off the ground.

Castiel looked up. Dean was backlit by the bright October sun, the rays glinting off his tawny hair and creating the illusion of a halo.

“Are you an angel?” he asked inexplicably before taking Dean’s hand and struggling to his feet.

Dean had gone very still and was staring at him, eyes wide. Castiel met his gaze and blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then he gasped softly; a quick, deep intake of breath.

And it came back.

It all came back.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I know some of you are thinking, ‘but wait, way back in Chapter 2 you said that Dean and Cas kissed for the first time at 16!’ You are correct, but if this story has proven anything it’s that memory is fallible. This is not a continuity error and will pay off... eventually.
> 
> Class pets are a thing. My youngest daughter went to an environmental science magnet elementary school and every class had its own pet.


	7. Touch Your Defenses

  _Twenty-Six Years Old_

When Dean woke he did so all at once, a skill honed by years of sleeping alternating days in a firehouse where the ability to be instantly alert was, quite literally, lifesaving.

This morning was no exception. He opened his eyes, sat up and took stock of Castiel’s living room. The room, and house, were unnaturally still and Dean knew without having to check that Cas wasn’t home. He frowned at that. His memories of the night before, or rather ridiculously early morning, were sharp and painful. Cas confessing that he loved Dean. Cas wishing that Dean loved him back.

But Castiel had clearly fled rather than face him.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean muttered under his breath and rubbed his eyes. He leaned over the grab his phone to check the time and his eyes landed on a sheet of paper covered in Castiel’s prim and proper handwriting. He slid the note out from under his phone and sat back on the couch to read it.

               _Dean,_

_Please allow me to apologize for the awkward position in which I’ve put you. While I know you care for me, I also know that your feelings stop at friendship. I genuinely treasure that friendship and hope that you can find it in your warm and giving heart to forgive me for any discomfort my actions have caused you._

_My feelings for you are what they are. I make no excuses or apologies for loving you, only for the mistake I made by again forcing you to deal with what I am too weak to overcome. I am a selfish man and will content myself with whatever you are able to give me and I will give you whatever time and space you need to decide what that is._

_For my part, I will always be your friend and I will always come when you call._

_Yours,_

_Castiel_

Dean gaped at the letter, reading it again and again as though the words on the page would change, would make more sense, would perhaps seem like something even remotely _plausible._ He shook his head, folded the letter up and stuffed it in his pocket before grabbing his phone and actually checking the time.

It was just after one in the afternoon and Dean was due at the station by six. He sighed and leaned back against Cas’ couch. He should call Cas or text him to make sure he’s all right. He looked at his phone for a moment before tapping through his contacts and hovering over Cas’ name.

No, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have over the phone. He had a feeling he knew where Cas was. He tapped the name below Cas’ instead.

Charlie’s phone went straight to voicemail and after sixteen rings he gave up on the bookstore and called Jo instead.

_“He’s OK, Dean. Charlie’s taking care of him,”_ Jo confirmed.

“What do you mean, ‘taking care of him’?” Dean asked, concerned.

_“She didn’t give me too many details. Just that Cas needed an ear and a shoulder,”_ Jo said calmly, nice enough to pretend Dean didn’t sound like a worried boyfriend even though Dean was sure that’s exactly what he sounded like. _“She texted me about thirty minutes ago and asked if I could make myself scarce until tonight. She’s helping him drown his sorrows in Hogwarts instead of bourbon.”_

Dean had almost forgotten that Jo was at Bobby’s last night. “Jo, did he – last night at the bar, did Cas… I mean, what did he-“

Jo cut off his fumbling attempts at asking a coherent question. _“He asked for you. Over and over and over, Dean.”_ She paused and Dean heard her clear her throat. _“You were all he wanted.”_

Dean sat quietly for a moment, phone pressed to his ear while Jo waited patiently on the other end of the line. “I don’t know what to do for him, Jo,” he blurted out and then softer, “what do I do?”

Jo chuckled sadly and answered him as only Jo could, affectionately but with enough derision in her voice to make it clear that she thought Dean was being a moron. _“You nut up and **talk** to him, Dean. Talk to him.”_

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

Dean sat down heavily on the bed, looking at the thick manila envelope in his hands. He wasn’t snooping, he wasn’t, he’d just been hoping to fuck Cas in the car after the movie and instead of finding condoms in Cas’ bedside table drawer he’d found this envelope.

He picked at the broken seal on the back before turning it over again and running his thumb over the crest stamped into the corner near the return address. A five pointed star atop an open book over which a banner with the words ‘Let There Be Light’ rested.

_Berkeley: University of California_ the envelope said in bold, proud blue and gold script.

This was an acceptance package. Dean didn’t need to open it to know that. He’d gotten his own from KU last month and had jogged two doors down to find Cas opening an identical one. Cas had been so happy at the idea of them going to college together and when Dean had asked about Berkeley – having been rejected himself – Cas had waved him away and said he didn’t want to go there anyway.

At the time, Dean had taken that to mean Cas hadn’t gotten in. That’s what he’d thought anyway… and Cas had _let_ him think that.

“Dean?”

He looked up to see Cas standing in the doorway, freshly shaved and hair damp. He smelled like mint from that weird tea tree shampoo Dean liked to tease him for using. He was glancing between Dean’s face and the envelope in Dean’s hands while biting his lip nervously.

Dean put the package down next to him and stood up. “You lied to me,” he said quietly.

Cas shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he said quickly, “I told you I didn’t want to go and that was the truth. I didn’t – I still don’t.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come the fuck on, Cas. You know damn well what I thought!” He picked up the envelope and shoved it into Castiel’s hands.

Cas looked at it with distaste and dropped it on top of the dresser next to him. “Dean-“

“I’m going home,” Dean interrupted.

“Wait, what?” Cas blinked at him. “I thought we were going to a movie?”

“I don’t want to sit through a movie with you right now, _Castiel_.” Dean said snidely. He moved toward the door and tried to push past, but Cas grabbed his hands and held him there.

“I didn’t lie,” he said. His voice was calm but his eyes were flashing with an emotion Dean couldn’t quite identify. “I misled you,” he admitted, “and for that I am sorry.”

Dean stood silently, not making eye contact until Cas brought both of Dean’s hands up to his lips and kissed the knuckles softly, one after another. When Dean looked up to see tears shining in Cas’ eyes and some of his anger melted. “Cas…” he whispered.

“We don’t have to see a movie, but please don’t go home.” Cas squeezed his hands and pulled him out of the room and toward the stairs. “Let’s just go for a drive and talk.” Dean held back a moment and Cas turned to him, raising his eyebrows. “Please?”

Relenting, Dean nodded and followed Cas outside and into the car.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

Dean didn’t talk to Cas on Sunday. Instead, he went to the station and made dinner for his ladder mates, responded to a two alarm fire on the edge of his district and fell asleep in his bunk after midnight, Benny’s gentle snores soothing in their familiarity.

He didn’t talk to Cas on Monday. There were no alarms that day, so he spent the morning and afternoon scrubbing down engines four and five before changing the oil on both rigs and pulling diagnostic checks of each fire apparatus. He felt eyes on him at one point and turned to see Benny watching him thoughtfully. He shook his head at his friend and Benny nodded and left him alone. At six, he clocked out, went home and crawled into bed alone.

He didn’t talk to Cas on Tuesday. He cleaned his apartment, watched an entire season of _Game of Thrones_ , ordered a pizza and made a perfunctory call to Sam to stave off his brother’s tendency to pop in and check on him after a few days of radio silence. He took a hot shower, stroking himself roughly under the steady stream of water. He came quickly with Cas’ name on his lips and the vision of Castiel naked and writhing in his lap behind his tightly closed eyes.

He didn’t talk to Cas on Wednesday, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He texted him simple messages, ‘hi’ and ‘everything OK?’ and ‘we still on for Friday?’ But Cas didn’t respond. He called several times, but hung up when he was forwarded to voicemail. He didn’t sleep well that night.

Thursday morning dawned with the start of another 48 hour shift. He trudged into the station at Noon, flashing a fake smile at Madison who sat at the switchboard reading a well-worn copy of _Twilight_. Benny didn’t understand her fascination with that series.

“Vampires ain’t supposed to fuckin’ sparkle,” he’d complained once and Dean had laughed, pointing at the miniature posters Maddie had taped around her desk and explained that Maddie was far more interested in the werewolves. But Benny had waved him off and groused, “Whatever. It’s still dumb.”

Distantly returning Madison’s wave, Dean headed upstairs and dropped his duffle bag at the foot of his bunk before heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He was dumping the second scoop of grounds into the filter when the klaxon in the common room sounded and Maddie’s voice sounded through the speakers. “Single alarm from Sunflower Elementary,” she called. “Ladder Five, suit up!”

Dean dropped the coffee tin and raced to the locker room where Benny was pulling on his gear. His friend met his eyes, saw the fear there and grabbed the back of his neck, squeezing to get his attention.

“Calm, brother. Calm.”

Dean nodded and took a deep breath. It did nothing to curb his unease; nothing to change the fact that Sunflower was Castiel’s school.

\--

_ Eighteen Years Old _

They’d been driving in silence for a few miles, going nowhere in particular, when Castiel finally spoke up.

“Berkeley rejected you so I rejected them,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “We’re going to KU because we can go together. This was always the plan, Dean. I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me.”

“Yes, you do,” Dean retorted, gripping Baby’s steering wheel tightly, “or you wouldn’t have tried to hide that acceptance letter.” He glanced over to see Cas staring out the window, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want to hold you back, Cas,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to resent me.”

“Oh, Dean. I could never resent you.” He laid a gentle hand on Dean’s thigh. “I love you and this is my choice.”

“It’s _Berkeley_ , Cas! You’ve been talking about that school since we were kids!” He didn’t mean to shout, but his frustration with Castiel’s indifference was too strong to push down.

Finally angry, Cas shouted right back at him, “Dean, I don’t care where I go as long as I’m with you!”

“Cas, that’s officially the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” Dean sneered and looked over to gauge Castiel’s reaction.

Cas was shaking his head but before he could respond, headlights, far too bright, splashed across his face and his eyes widened in fear. Dean followed his gaze in what felt like slow-motion and saw the SUV barreling toward them. He jerked the wheel, throwing an arm across Cas’ chest reflexively.

Baby spun out, off the road and crashed to an unnatural stop against an enormous weeping willow. Dean registered the pain as his leg snapped but his focus was on Cas, still and bleeding.

He heard the squealing of brakes and the shouting of passersby.

And then there was nothing.

\--

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

The rig’s radio crackled to life as Madison’s amused voice came through. “False alarm, boys,” she said through her laughter and Dean exchanged a confused glance with Benny. “One of the kids pulled the alarm because Novak’s cat is stuck up a tree.”

Benny breathed out a relieved chuckle and reached up to flip off the lights and siren. Dean felt the truck start to slow down as Benny took his foot off the accelerator and prepared to turn back to the station.

“We should-“ Dean began, clearing his throat, “we should respond anyway.”

Benny glanced over, eyebrows raised. “It’s a cat, brother.”

“And we’re fireman,” Dean reasoned. “If the kids need us to get a cat out of a tree we shouldn’t disappoint them, right?”

Benny shook his head, but continued toward the school while Dean pulled off most of his gear, leaving him in more comfortable clothes. “Right,” Benny said, holding back a laugh, “the kids.”

A few minutes later they pulled into the school parking lot in time for Dean to see Castiel slip and fall gracelessly out of the tree. Almost before the truck rolled to a stop, Dean was out and rushing toward his friend. He skidded to a stop under the tree and squatted down.

“Cas? Cas, are you OK?” He put his hand over Castiel’s on the other man’s head where a tender knot was forming.

“I’m fine,” Cas answered, looking down at the ground. He looked embarrassed so Dean tried to lighten the mood a little.

“So we heard there was a cat up a tree.”

Cas sighed and nodded in his direction. “I guess I should have left it to the professionals.”

Relieved that Cas was playing along Dean laughed and stood up before reaching out his hand. Castiel looked up at him, his eyes darting around Dean’s face before a strange, almost blank expression crossed his face.

“Are you an angel?” Castiel asked.

Dean stilled, his hand still extended down toward his friend. He felt too hot and too cold and yet completely numb all at once. Those words, coming from Castiel under the very tree where they’d met sixteen years ago… it was surreal.

Cas grabbed his hand and Dean helped pull him to his feet. Dean knew he was staring, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop. Then Castiel met his eyes and blinked at him twice before gasping and looking at him with something Dean could only identify as _realization._

“Dean,” he whispered, “Dean, I _remember_ …”

Castiel reached out blindly and almost lost his balance. Reflexively, Dean grabbed Cas and gathered him into his arms.

“I remember,” he said again. “I remember, I remember, I remember.” Cas was gasping now, thrashing his head back and forth, his hands fisting Dean’s fire department t-shirt. His knees gave out and Dean steadied him as they both sank to the ground. Cas was still muttering ‘I remember’ over and over again. He buried his face in Dean’s neck and whispered the words into Dean’s skin.

“Lieutenant,” said a frightened voice from above him and Dean looked up to see one of the other third grade teachers wringing her hands. “Is Castiel all right? What can we do?”

Dean smiled at her. “Amelia, right?” he asked and the woman nodded. “Go ask Principal Moseley to call Castiel’s brother Michael. We need him here as soon as possible.” She nodded, but didn’t move, still looking down at Cas. “Amelia,” he said firmly and she blinked over at him.

“Yes. Yes, Michael. I can do that,” she said quickly and sprinted back into the school.

Whispering drew his attention and he looked over to see Cas’ class grouped together, clearly scared. Benny appeared like a guardian angel, smiled warmly at them and led them inside with the promise letting them all ride in the truck the next time they visited the station.

Dean took advantage of their temporary solitude to peel Castiel off of him now that the other man had fallen silent.

“Cas,” he said softly, “are you OK?”

“I-“ Castiel began, “I – I don’t know.” He furrowed his brow and shook his head. He looked up at Dean and sucked in a shuddering breath before raising his arms and cupping Dean’s face with his hands. His thumb traced a slow line across Dean’s bottom lip and Dean felt himself start to tremble.

Dean took a deep breath. “Cas, what do you remember?” A dangerous thread of hope was weaving through him, wrapping tentative tendrils of warmth around his neglected heart.

Cas was still staring at him, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. “I remember you,” he whispered before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips. “I remember this.”

Dean choked out a sob and clutched at him, “Cas, Cas, _Cas_ …” he whimpered. He tried to pull Castiel fully into his arms, but Castiel moaned unhappily and pushed him away to stand up.

He stared down at Dean who could only look back in confusion. “Since the accident?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Dean confirmed, breathing heavily now. Of all the times he’d fantasized about this moment it never occurred to him that Cas might be hurt or even angry.

“Eight years,” Castiel said to himself, his hands fisting at his sides. “Eight _years_!”

Dean stood up and reached for him, but Cas stepped back, holding his hands up defensively. “Cas,” he began, but Castiel glared at him and Dean fell silent.

“You – you lied to me. For _eight years_ you lied to me.” He stepped forward into Dean’s personal space and it was Dean’s turn to put his hands up in supplication. “Everyone lied to me!” He tried to move away, but his foot caught on a tree root and he swayed on the spot, gasping and holding his head in his hands.

Dean caught him before he could fall and by the time they crumpled to the ground, Castiel was out cold.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll get at least some resolution in the next chapter. Cross my heart. 
> 
> Sunflower Elementary and Castiel's townhouse are both real locations in Lawrence. They're on the northern edge of the city near the University campus.
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/braavos_mercy).


	8. We'll Win in the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Large and very identifiable chunk of dialogue here lifted from 9x10, _Road Trip_ and should be credited to Andrew Dabb.  
>  \- Infamous “not for nothin’” line is of course from 5x18 _Point of No Return_ and should be credited to Jeremy Carver.  
>  \- Blink and you'll miss it Vonnegut reference toward the end.

_ Twenty-Six Years Old _

Dean decided that he could live a thousand years and the last thing he’d ever want to see again would be Cas in a hospital bed. It was different this time around. Sure, the green and white gown was the same and his hair was still a wreck, but instead of a fresh gash above his eye there was an angry welt. Instead of bruises on his face there were errant scratches from the rough bark of the Sycamore. Instead of smiling politely at Dean, Cas’ eyes were closed, his dark lashes fanning across his cheeks.

Instead of forgetting, Cas remembered… and he was angry.

He’d clearly been writing something though – that was the same. Tentatively, Dean walked into the room, stopping a few paces from the bed. He glanced down at the legal pad on the rolling table positioned over Castiel’s bed. It looked like a list; bullet points marking short paragraphs in Castiel’s precise handwriting.

He wasn’t sleeping though. He held a pen in his hand, clicking the end of it repeatedly.

Dean cleared his throat pointedly. Cas’ thumb paused and the clicking stopped, but he gave no other sign that he’d heard anything. Dean took another step forward and cleared his throat again. Sighing, Cas opened his eyes, turned the legal pad upside down and tucked the pen behind his ear.

“Hello, Dean,” he said quietly.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answered. Cas glanced up at him and he smiled hesitantly.

“Why are you here?”

Dean blinked at him, stung. “You can’t really be asking me that.”

“Fine, fine,” Castiel acquiesced. “What do you want?”

Dean inched forward and perched on the edge of the chair next to Cas’ bed. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

Castiel huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m fine, Dean.” He flipped the legal pad back over and starting writing again, effectively dismissing Dean. “You can go back to worrying about me from afar. You’ve done a wonderful job of that over the past eight years.”

Dean didn’t respond to that; couldn’t respond to that. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?! Fortunately, Cas seemed to regret his harsh tone and relented.

“Look, Dean – I just need time to process all of this.”

“Cas, I-“

“Dean, please.”

Dean sighed heavily and nodded. He rose to leave, but couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss into Castiel’s messy hair. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he murmured and left before Cas could see him cry.

\--

On Friday evening, a little over a week later, Dean was puttering around his apartment trying to figure out how to spend the rest of his rare three-day weekend. He was considering ordering a pizza and inviting Charlie and Jo over for a _Star Wars_ binge when his phone pinged with a text message.

**Cas:** _If you’re not busy, could you come over to my house tonight so we can talk?_

Dean stared at the message for a long moment before tapping out his affirmative reply with shaking hands. He tucked his phone into his pocket, grabbed his leather jacket and bounded out to Baby.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled into the driveway of Castiel’s cozy townhouse, took the steps two at a time and knocked eagerly on the door.

Cas opened up immediately and they smiled tentatively at each other. “Come in, please,” Cas said after a moment and stepped back to usher Dean inside. “May I take your jacket?”

Dean furrowed his brow at Cas’ formality, but shucked the jacket off and held it out. Cas took it and draped it on the old-fashioned coat rack next to the front door before leading them into the living room.

Castiel stood in the archway, twisting his hands nervously. “Can I get you something to drink? I have water and tea or I could make you a cup of coffee or if you’d like something stronger I have a bottle of-“

“Cas,” Dean interrupted. “I’m fine. I don’t need – I just-“

“This was a mistake.”

Dean jerked in surprise and took an involuntary step backward, bumping the couch with the backs of his legs. “A mistake?”

Cas was pacing now, running his hands through his hair. “This is just so _awkward._ ” He looked at Dean plaintively. “I don’t even know where to start. I thought I was ready but… maybe we should try another time.”

Dean shook his head. “Cas, please don’t make me go. Please talk to me. I’m begging you here, baby, please don’t send me away.”

Castiel had stopped pacing when Dean dropped the endearment and was looking at Dean curiously, almost as if seeing him for the first time. “Dean?” he questioned.

“I’m – I’m scared, Cas,” Dean admitted. “What if I leave and you – what if you forget me again.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered brokenly.

“I can’t go through it again.” Dean dropped down on the couch and raked a hand through his hair. “It almost killed me, Cas,” he rasped. “I can’t do it again. I can’t.” He let out a shuddering breath, fisting the cushions of the couch, and screwed his eyes tightly shut. “I’ve loved you every single day for as long as I can remember and after the a-accident… after I drove us into a goddamn tree and you almost _died_ -“ Dean broke off and bit back a sob.

He felt a warm hand on his knee and opened his eyes to see Cas crouching in front of him, his beautiful eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Can I show you something?” he asked and Dean nodded. Cas got up and crossed over to the kitchen where he pulled a legal pad out of a drawer and brought it back. He knelt in front of Dean and handed him the pad.

Dean looked down and recognized it as the same legal pad Castiel was using at the hospital. He felt the breath punch out of him when he realized what it was.

A list.

A list of moments Castiel remembered; moments previously forgotten: _Dean asks me if I’m an angel_ and _Dean calls me his best friend_ and _Dean kisses me for the first time_ and _Dean and I get thrown out of after-prom for making out in front Ms. Mills._

Dean chuckled at that one, knowing that it had led to one of the best blow-jobs Cas had ever given him. When he looked up again, Castiel was looking at him with an intensity Dean hadn’t seen in years.

“I will never forget you again, Dean.” He put his hands on Dean’s thighs, gripping them tightly. “Never.”

Without even thinking about it, Dean dropped the legal pad on the coffee table and pushed himself forward. He slid to his knees and gathered Cas to him; one arm around his waist, the other across his back so Dean could bury his fingers in Castiel’s impossibly soft hair.

Cas leaned into him and Dean felt, rather than heard, Cas murmuring Dean’s name against his temple.

“I convinced myself the accident was my fault,” Dean confessed softly and he felt Castiel’s arms tighten around him. “I convinced myself that I was going to hold you back, hurt you even more so I told Michael to keep his mouth shut and let you go and you went and it hurt so _bad_ , Cas.” Dean was crying openly now, his face buried in Castiel’s neck.

Cas stroked his back gently and whispered a steady stream of affection into his ear. _You’re so beautiful_ and _it’s all right_ and _everything will be OK_ and _I love you, Dean_.

Dean’s breath hitched at Cas’ last whisper and he leaned back to look his lost love in the eye. “You don’t mean that, Cas. You _can’t_ mean that. Not after everything I did.” He tried to pull away, but Cas held him in place. “I lied to you for such a long time. God, I was so _damn_ stupid.”

Castiel made an angry noise at that and brought his hands up to frame Dean’s face. “You were stupid for the right reasons,” he said firmly.

“Yeah, like that matters,” Dean scoffed, turning away.

“It does,” Cas retorted, his sharp tone at odds with the thumbs gently stroking Dean’s cheeks. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice softening, “that’s all that matters.” He leaned forward then and captured Dean’s lips, kissing him tentatively, before pulling back.

Dean stared at him, floored, and Cas tilted his head to the side and scrunched his face up in that adorably questioning way that Dean had fallen in love with so many years ago.

“I was stupid too,” Castiel said eventually. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas cut him off. “I was. I was stupid to walk away from you, stupid to be so angry with you for just… being who you are.”

“Cas?”

“You’re a caretaker, Dean. You always have been. You did what you thought was right because you wanted to protect me and I-“ he broke off and gulped in a pained breath. “Oh, Dean. I was so _blind_ to anything but my own frustration that it didn’t even occur to me how badly you’d been hurt.”

“Cas,” Dean moaned, closing his eyes.

“I pined for you,” Cas whispered, his breath ghosting across Dean’s eyelids. “I know it sounds sappy and I don’t care. I pined for a love I thought would never be returned but you-“ Cas’ voice broke, “-you had to see me, interact with me knowing what we’d had, what we’d been, without ever knowing if we’d have it again.” He lifted Dean’s chin and waited until Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. “I can’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been for you and then when it does come back what do I do? I push you away like a goddamn idiot.”

“I’m damn stupid and you’re a goddamn idiot,” Dean mumbled. “That’s the moral of the story here.”

Cas sniffled and laughed. “I guess so,” he said, grinning. “See, we’re perfect for each other.”

Dean chuckled tearfully and leaned forward to press a small, soft kiss against Castiel’s lips. The movement made his knee give an embarrassing pop and Cas giggled into his mouth.

“We should probably get off the floor, old man,” Cas teased gently. “Wouldn’t want you getting stuck down here.”

Dean rolled his eyes before pulling himself back up and settling onto the couch again. After a moment, he grabbed Cas by the hips and hauled him into his lap.

Castiel let out a surprised “oh” before spreading his legs wider and pressing forward into Dean. The motion brought their groins together and for the first time in a very long time, Dean felt Castiel against him; the hot, hard line of him trapped behind the thin material of his slacks.

Dean groaned and threw his head back against the couch. This wasn’t actually what he’d been going for when he’d pulled Cas onto him. He just wanted to hold Cas for a while longer, to feel the weight of the other man against him again.

“Shit,” Dean managed to grind out. He dragged his gaze back to Castiel’s and saw his own lust and desire mirrored there. “Cas,” he panted, “I don’t want to rush things. I know we need to get to know each other again- _oh fuck_ -“ he trailed off into a long moan as Cas slowly and deliberately rolled his hips down. The pressure and friction against Dean’s straining erection was delicious and perfect.

Castiel pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it behind him. “I know you, Dean. I’ve always known you.”

Dean couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed at the whimper that Cas’ words pulled out of him. Instead, he tore off his own shirt and pulled Cas down into a kiss, desperate to feel skin on skin. He moaned shamelessly into Castiel’s mouth as they rutted together and when Cas pulled back and got up he whined at the loss of contact.

Until Castiel dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning Dean’s fly. Castiel pulled the zipper down slowly, holding Dean’s gaze the entire time. When the jeans were fully open, Cas cocked an eyebrow and tugged at them until Dean lifted his hips.

Efficient as always, Castiel dragged the jeans and boxers down and off before leaning back up and lapping at the tip of Dean’s cock. He swirled his tongue around the head, nudging gently at the leaking slit before licking a long, wet stripe up the sensitive underside.

Dean gasped his pleasure, hands fisted at his sides until Castiel grabbed them and put them on the back of his head. “Touch me, Dean,” he whispered as he pressed wet, open mouthed kisses up and down Dean’s erection.

Obediently, Dean slid his hands into Cas’ hair and canted his hips up just as Castiel swallowed him down. Resisting the urge to let his eyes fall shut, Dean watched Castiel suck him, watched him pull back to tease the head, watched him bob up and down to bring him closer and close to the edge.

“Cas,” he rasped, “Cas you have to stop. I want – _oh, fuck yes_ – Cas, I wanna be inside you.”

Sliding off of him with an obscene ‘pop’ Castiel grinned and nodded. “I want that too.” He stood up and hooked his thumbs into his pants, pushing them down his legs and kicking them away. His cock sprang free; thick and red and shiny with precome.

Dean surged forward and wrapped his lips around that gorgeous cock, suckling at it and moaning at the taste. Above him, Castiel cried out, gripping Dean’s shoulders to steady himself. Dean grinned around his mouthful and reached up, gently toying with Cas’ heavy balls before sliding a single finger between his cheeks and prodding at his entrance.

Castiel curled himself over Dean, moaning his name brokenly. He shoved Dean carefully away and said, “I have – stay here, and I’ll go get… stuff. Just… stay.” Dean chuckled at Castiel’s incoherency and watched as Cas disappeared upstairs for several minutes.

Dean was grinning languidly when Castiel came back into the room holding a small purple bottle. Dean just _looked_ ag him, relishing the opportunity see Cas like this again: naked, flushed, hard and eager. Almost unconsciously, Dean reached down and stroked himself. Cas’ eyes widened and he stopped short. A fresh pearl of precome beaded at the head of Dean’s dick and Castiel licked his lips, watching Dean hungrily.

“Cas, not for nothin’ but the last person looked at me like that… I got laid,” Dean said breathlessly. He was expecting a smile or maybe even a laugh, but instead Castiel’s face fell and he looked uncertain for the first time since he’d landed in Dean’s lap. “Hey,” Dean said, taking his hand off himself and beckoning Cas back over. “What just happened?”

Cas padded back to the couch and sat down, hands between his knees. “I realize that we weren’t together,” he began and Dean relaxed a little. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Even though I know I have no right to feel this way, the thought of you with someone else… disturbs me.”

“Cas,” Dean said, crowding into the other man’s space and pushing him down onto the couch cushions, “the last person who looked at me like that was _you._ ”

Blinking up at him, Castiel said haltingly, “so, you haven’t… with anyone else… since the last time we… ever?”

“Nope,” Dean confirmed. “Not with anyone else since the last time we ever.” He leaned down and kissed the slightly annoyed look off of Cas’ face.

“Why?” Cas mumbled against his lips.

“I tried a few times,” Dean admitted, “but it always felt like cheating on you.” He reached between them and plucked the bottle of lube out of Cas’ grip. He wiggled the bottle and arched his brow lasciviously. “I had some of this and I had my hand and I had some pretty fantastic memories of you. I made do.”

Castiel blushed at that. “I’m sorry if you were lonely or-“ he licked his lips nervously, “unsatisfied.”

Dean kissed him again. “No more apologies,” he said firmly. “It’s done, it’s over. We’re here now and that’s all that matters.” He leaned down to pick up where they’d left off but Cas stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“Until last week I thought I was a virgin,” he blurted out and Dean stared down at him, blinking owlishly. “I don’t, uh, feel sexual attraction like most people,” Castiel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

Dean lifted himself up. “Cas, we don’t have to do this,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want to do.”

Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean, pinning him in place. “I’m demisexual,” he said calmly and Dean wondered how many times Cas had needed to explain this to someone, “I feel sexual desire, but only for someone with whom I have a strong emotional connection; a profound bond, if you will.”

“So you’ve never…” Dean trailed off, leaving the question unasked but Castiel answered him anyway.

“No,” he said softly, before working his hand between their bodies and grasping their weeping erections together. They had both flagged a bit but Cas stroked them back to full hardness. “I’ve only ever felt this way about you, Dean. I’ve only ever desired you.”

Something inside Dean snapped and he let himself go, covering Cas with his body again and kissing him deeply and tenderly. After who knew how long, he slid down Castiel’s body, kissing the exposed flesh, teasing pert nipples with his tongue and sucking dark, possessive marks into the skin over Cas’ hip. He tore the plastic off the unopened bottle of lube and opened Castiel up with fingers and tongue and when he finally slid his aching cock inside it was like coming home.

Later, sticky and sated, they lay together on the couch. It wasn’t really big enough for two grown men to stay on for long, but neither of them was up for moving just yet. Dean’s head rested against Cas’ chest and while he traced nonsensical patterns on heated skin, Castiel threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, gently stroking the back of his neck.

“Cas,” Dean said quietly, “do you remember the first time we had sex?”

“I do _now_ ,” Cas responded cheekily and Dean pinched him, “OK, ow!” Castiel laughed. “Yes, Dean, I remember quite clearly the first time I fucked you.”

Dean shivered a little, but pushed on. “Do you remember what I asked you when we were done?”

_Will you – I mean, would you consider maybe… and not like right now or anything, but some day…_

Castiel went still beneath him.

_Marry me?_

Dean looked up and into Castiel’s eyes. “I feel the same way about my question,” he said carefully.

Smiling, Cas leaned up and kissed him, soft and slow and sweet before responding. “I feel the same way about my answer.”

They held each other for a while longer before snuggling into Castiel’s bed, spooned up and tangled together. Finally, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

\--

A week later, Dean and Castiel announced their engagement. They told Sam and Jess first. Dean was almost certain that their screams of delight over what had been a memorable Skype call had done permanent damage to his laptop’s speakers. That night they gathered their friends and remaining family at Bobby’s tavern to make the official announcement. Reactions varied between relieved and thrilled and Dean had never been hugged by so many people in such a short span of time.

After being asked for the tenth time if they’d set a date, Dean shot a pointed look Castiel’s way and they slipped toward the door. Mary spotted them leaving and blew them a kiss gesturing backward to indicate she would explain their absence.

They pulled up to Castiel’s house and Dean killed Baby’s engine but made no move to get out of the car. “I don’t want to go home,” he said quietly.

Cas leaned over and kissed him softly. “Then come in. I’m sure we can figure out something to do,” he said suggestively.

Dean grinned at him. “Oh, I have no doubt, but… that’s not what I meant.” Castiel cocked his head to the side and looked at him questioningly. “I don’t want to go home… ever.”

“So don’t,” Cas said simply, smiling so brightly Dean was almost tempted to shield his eyes. “Stay with me. Live with me. Make this _our_ home.”

Dean grinned at him. “Are you sure?”

“Dean” Cas said firmly, “I would love to live with you; here especially.” He inclined his head toward the townhouse.

“Why here especially?”

Cas stared at him for a moment before barking out a delighted laugh. “Well this is a historic day! Something I remember that you don’t.” He gave Dean a coy grin before getting out of the car and standing at the bottom of the stone steps that led to his house.

Dean followed him out and looked up at the house for a moment before glancing back at Cas. “I don’t understand,” he said finally.

Cas reached down and laced their fingers together. “A birthday party. A beanbag chair,” he prompted.

Dean looked at him a moment longer before the memory clicked and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Krissy. This was Krissy’s house. We were in the basement after the party ended and you-“ Dean grinned and stepped into Castiel’s personal space before wrapping the shorter man in his arms. “You kissed me,” he finished before leaning down and bringing their lips together.

“I did,” Cas whispered against his mouth.

“That’s why you bought this house?” Dean breathed, staring into Castiel’s eyes and feeling so much love that he wondered if his heart might actually burst.

Cas smiled gently and stroked his hand down Dean’s jaw. “Of course I did,” he said softly. “I told you, Dean. I’ve loved you since we were ten.”

\--

It was a Christmas wedding.

They walked each other down the aisle like the friends and equals they’d always been. They cried and laughed their way through their vows while Dean’s company, Cas’ colleagues; their friends, their family, their _everyone_ looked on with satisfied affection.

Later, when the speeches were done, the cake cut and the champagne poured, Cas took Dean’s hand and led him to the center of the vacated dance floor.

Dean gazed at his new husband, at _Cas_ , eyes alight, messy hair shining in the glow of the spotlight trained on their dance, and was reminded – achingly, beautifully reminded – of the day they met; of the day eighteen years ago when Castiel rescued him, appearing like something out of a dream and forever altering the course of Dean’s life.

And much like he fell that first day, Dean fell again. Fell for _Cas_ all over again. His friend, his lover, his redeemer, his husband, his past and present and future. He savored the feeling, memorized it and hoped against hope that if heaven was real _this_ would be the moment he could live again and again.

Because after all, the first time Dean saw Castiel he asked him, “are you an angel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. I hope you all enjoyed the story as much as I've enjoyed your comments. I will be marking this story as 'Complete' for now, but there remains the possibility for timestamps. If you have something you'd like to see - either in their past or future - please feel free to request it and I'll see what my muse allows me to do.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for coming with me on this ride.
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/braavos_mercy).


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